Love Defies Logic
by MagicSwede1965
Summary: Christian and Leslie get used to life with triplets, an unlikely couple face huge obstacles to a relationship, and a teenager develops a crush on Christian.  Follows 'No Greater Love'.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** _This story has turned out to be much longer than I meant it to be, and I'm still working on it as I post this. Its resolution will probably come over the course of another story or two. In the meantime, enjoy, and let me know what you think. Writing about infants has turned out to be quite educational for me! Thanks as always to PDXWiz, jtbwriter, Harry2, Kyryn and Bishop T, and also to Raggedygal for her recent reviews._

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§ § § -- June 17, 2004

"I think we're getting the hang of this," Leslie murmured, watching Karina and Tobias busily drawing milk from her. The two rested on a pillow for a king-size bed, the only type long enough to fit fully across Leslie's lap and comfortably hold two babies at once. Tobias seemed intent on feeding, but now and then Karina would look up and meet Leslie's gaze, never failing to make Leslie smile.

"Does it still hurt?" asked Christian, who sat beside her feeding Susanna.

"No," she said. "It feels normal now. Dr. Hannaford keeps saying I must be a natural." She caught Christian's eye and grinned. "Frankly, I just think it's because I wanted so much to be a mother. Listen, my love, has there been any chance yet to look around for someone who can do our grocery shopping?"

"I put an ad in the paper the day we brought the triplets home, but so far we haven't had any response," Christian mused, glancing down at Susanna. "I suppose the local teenagers have long since found jobs for the summer. I have to tell you, though, it's getting draining. Margareta refused last night to go anymore, and Ingrid's picked up perhaps five words of English. Neither of them knows how to read nutrition labels."

Leslie sighed. "Well, I guess it's not all bad. Margareta's habit of bringing home only fruit and produce is turning me into an unwilling vegetarian, but you can't say I'm not eating healthy." They chuckled together. "Besides, that book I borrowed from Maureen says that whatever the mother eats eventually adds a little of its taste to the breast milk, and the babies can taste it too—which influences what they like to eat later on. If I keep this up, we should have no problem with picky brats who won't eat their veggies."

Laughing, Christian remarked, "So that's how it's done! I'm sure mothers from the 60s back, all the way to the beginning of the human race, would have murdered to get that information. But you can't subsist on fruit and vegetables forever, and I'm beginning to go a little mad for the taste of some salmon or roast beef myself." He noted the level of formula in Susanna's bottle and looked around, calling, _"Ingrid, jag behöver mera mjalk, ock skynda dej! Babyn sluttar stracks!"_ He smiled apologetically at Leslie, then quirked an eyebrow at her and said, "You've complained often enough that I won't teach you _jordiska_. If the babies are to grow up bilingual as we planned, then you may as well learn right beside them. What do you think I just said?"

Leslie rolled her eyes. _"Now_ you decide to teach me," she said, and he grinned. "Well, this is mostly a guess, but since you took a quick look at Susanna's bottle before you yelled at Ingrid, I'd say you asked her for more milk. Do I win?"

"Yes, you do," Christian said, chuckling. "I also warned her that the baby will finish this shortly, so she'd better hurry." At that moment Ingrid came out of the kitchen toting a fresh bottle, and Christian nodded approval. "Right on time," he murmured, turning to Susanna and tugging very gently at the bottle. Susanna released it, but began to whimper in protest, and Christian quickly switched to the full one. Ingrid curtsied and whisked the empty one back to the kitchen. "There, Susanna _lilla_, you see? I promise, I won't starve you. These things just don't hold as much milk as Mamma's breasts do, so I have to keep changing them on you just to keep you happy." He looked up at Leslie's giggle and grinned at her again before focusing once more on Susanna. "Now if we can teach you and your brother and sister to like all the good _jordiska_ foods such as salmon and other fish, and lobster and other wonderful crustaceans…"

"I suppose you're going to start feeding me lingonberry and cloudberry jam, and silver-speckled trout, and even cherry seltzer, just so they can have a taste of all that in the milk," Leslie said good-naturedly. "You may as well get ready to start importing."

Christian snickered. "You've never had cherry seltzer," he said, referring to a drink that was a summer specialty in Lilla Jordsö and was made with the juice of _jordiska_ cherries, a little lingonberry juice, soda water, and just enough sugar to sweeten the tart berry juice. "Who told you about that?"

"Margareta did," Leslie said. "She was feeling a little homesick and talking about sending Gabriella an e-mail asking her to ship out some cherry seltzer. When I asked her what it was, she made it sound like utter ambrosia. I'd love to try some."

"Frankly, I'm feeling a bit nostalgic for it myself," Christian remarked. "It used to be a staple in my kitchen during the warm months. All right, Susanna _lilla_, stop squirming." He shifted the arm that supported the baby and let his back relax against the sofa back. "She must have gained ten pounds since we brought her home. My arm's numb under her."

"You sound so cute when you call them 'little' that way," Leslie said, enchanted, and laughed at the face Christian made. "It sounds so much nicer in _jordiska_ anyway."

"I must have picked up the habit from Mother," Christian said. "She nearly always called me 'Christian _lilla'_, till I was eleven and told her I wasn't so little anymore and she could stop doing it. I think she missed it. In our last long conversation before her death, she said it just one more time. It nearly did me in…I was distraught anyway, and it took me back to my childhood. I didn't realize it stuck with me like that, though."

Karina suddenly let go of Leslie to yawn, and Leslie grinned. "One down, two to go." This was Karina's way of indicating she was through eating; Leslie and Christian had both wished it were as easy to tell when Tobias and Susanna were through. Christian glanced over at Karina and smiled, then started when the phone rang.

"_Herregud,_ what dreadful timing," he complained. "Obviously Magga has yet to e-mail Briella to ask for that cherry seltzer, or the line would have been busy—so why doesn't she answer the phone?"

"Don't worry about it, my love, just let the machine get it," Leslie said, gently massaging Karina's little tummy; sometimes this resulted in a burp from her, which came in handy when whichever triplet was at her other breast wasn't finished and she couldn't pick Karina up to burp her the usual way. "You can always call back."

"Mm-hmm," Christian mumbled, checking Susanna to see if she showed any signs of finishing yet, then looking at Tobias, who was still suckling away. "Look at that boy," he murmured with a note of pride in his voice.

"You'd think he was starving," Leslie said. "On the other hand, I never have to worry about whether they're emptying me out."

Christian gave her a sly look. "It's almost too bad," he said. "I'd like to have my own turn, if these three would ever give us enough time." Leslie snickered loudly, at which point the machine finally picked up the call and gave Christian and Leslie's joint greeting. But the message that followed was lost to them for the moment, since Tobias abruptly let his mother loose and, all by himself, released a startlingly loud burp that made both his parents break down into helpless laughter.

"I daresay he's ready to go back to sleep," Christian chortled, shaking his head. "Do you think you can handle it, or should I call Ingrid?"

Leslie pulled her shirt, an old cotton tee she'd owned since her senior year of high school, down to cover herself and said, "Go ahead and call Ingrid, and she can put Tobias in for some more sleep. I need to finish burping Karina." Christian nodded, called Ingrid again and sent her off with Tobias when she came in. Leslie lifted Karina to her shoulder and began to gently pat her back, closing her eyes and emitting a long yawn.

To Christian's relief, Susanna finally decided she'd had enough and stopped suckling; he removed the bottle, set it aside and followed Leslie's example to burp the baby. She was still sitting with her eyes closed, and he ventured, "Are you all right, my Rose?"

"Fine," murmured Leslie. "Just a little sleepy, that's all." Karina finally burped, and she visibly relaxed. "You know, my love, you were talking about a craving for meat a while ago. I'm feeling the same way. If we could have home-grilled hamburgers, maybe…after all, Dr. Hannaford told me I'd better get more iron into me, after I mentioned that Margareta's avoiding packaging and labels by buying nothing but fruit and vegetables."

"Stop it," groaned Christian, "you're making me unbelievably hungry. It's tempting to call the main house and ask Mr. Roarke if he'd mind sending Mariki down here with a nice, sumptuous home-cooked meal." Susanna burped then and he let out a small amused huff. "Good girl, Susanna _lilla_. Now you and your sister are going to bed, and your mother and I are going to see about reverting to our regular carnivorous status."

‡ ‡ ‡

About half an hour before all this, Janine Polidari had been listlessly paging through the _Fantasy Island Chronicle_, bored to tears and wishing she'd thought to ask her mother if she could spend the summer in Massachusetts with her father's parents. _She probably would've said no,_ Janine thought, disgruntled. Boston was a lively place in the summer and she really missed it now that school was out and there was nothing to do. Denise had lost patience with her, which was pretty much normal for her now, and had gone out to take a long walk and get to know her way around the island. Janine had no interest in this, and she was feeling sorry for herself—a common habit of hers nowadays. Denise had settled in at school and had friends with whom she was keeping in contact during summer vacation; and her mother was still dating that German guy. By now she and Denise had met him and knew enough about him that they were no longer wary of him; Denise liked him, though Janine continued to reserve judgment.

There was really nothing to do on this island, resort or not. She wasn't old enough to go to the casino; she didn't like horses; and mopeds scared her. And you could go to the pool or the beach only so much before it got to be monotonous. She'd finally picked up the newspaper out of desperation and tried to kill time by reading everything in it, even the sports section and the want ads. It was in the latter section that she suddenly realized there might be positions open for teenagers who wanted to earn some money. It was Janine's hope that she could get a job that paid her enough to start a savings account; she could squirrel away money to return to Massachusetts, she thought, even if only for a visit. Several of her old friends back home had said they hoped she could come back to visit, and invited her to stay with them; and of course, there were her paternal grandparents, who called once a month to stay in touch with her and Denise. Janine was working up to asking them if they'd mind her coming to live with them. If she earned her own plane fare…

Unfortunately, there were very few jobs out there, and even fewer suitable for a sixteen-year-old girl. Discouraged, she was about to throw the paper aside when she caught sight of a small notice almost at the end of the listings. _"Wanted: teenager with driver's license to shop for groceries twice a week. Car provided, pay is $25 per trip. Must be willing to follow a grocery list and read nutritional labels. For more info, call 695."_

Janine considered it; it sounded pretty good. It didn't pay much, but on the other hand, she could still make some fairly good money just for spending a few hours a week choosing groceries. She began to calculate. Two trips a week at twenty-five dollars a trip, till summer's end, would come out to almost six hundred dollars. _That might be enough for plane tickets back to Boston!_ she thought excitedly. _I wonder who it's for? It's probably some rich old bag in the Enclave someplace, or maybe somebody who's sick or broke their leg and can't get out._ Well, whoever it was, it would get her out of this house for a while, and she'd be actually earning her own money so that she could finally go home where she belonged. Her mother and sister never had to know what the money would be used for.

She tossed the paper aside and headed for the phone, dialing the number given in the ad and waiting nervously. The buzz of the phone ringing sounded four times; then an answering machine clicked on and she heard, _"Hello, you've reached the Enstad residence. We can't get to the phone at the moment, but leave us your name and number and let us know what you're calling about, and we'll get back to you first chance we get. Thanks!"_ A beep sounded.

"Uh…my name's Janine Polidari, and I'm calling about the ad you put in the paper. I'm sixteen and I have a driver's license. I'd really like that job. The number here is 243. Thanks for your time." She hung up, a little disappointed that she hadn't gotten through. "Enstad, Enstad…" she mumbled, trying to place the name, which sounded familiar. Then it hit her: her Aunt Camille was friends with Mr. Roarke's daughter, whose married name was Enstad. They'd just had babies, as she recalled. Maybe they wanted her to shop for baby formula and…ugh…diapers. Janine made a face and began to wish she hadn't called. Her mother's cousin Lauren's baby son was a holy horror, and whenever they were invited over, Janine always came up with an excuse not to go. Babies cried all the time and did nothing but create dirty diapers and spit up all over everything. The one time Lauren had brought little Kevin over here, he had cried and cried, and once Lauren had had to change his diaper. She'd done it right there in their living room, and the whole place had stunk so much that Janine had opened the windows after they were gone and left them that way all night. No, Janine definitely wanted nothing to do with babies. But what else was there for her to do, and how on earth was she going to get back to Boston without asking her mother for the money?

She was still contemplating this dilemma when her Uncle Jeremy swung into the house, fresh off his shift at the island's radio station. "Hiya, Janine," he said.

"Hi, Uncle Jeremy," she replied absently.

"Where's Denise?" he asked, coming through the living room into the kitchen and poking through a cabinet. Andrea, Janine and Denise had grown used to having Jeremy take all his meals with them; Andrea had jacked up his rent by fifty dollars a month as a result, but Jeremy had taken it in stride and sometimes did the family grocery shopping.

"She's out walking somewhere," Janine said. "Hey, Uncle Jeremy, how far away from here is the Enclave?"

Jeremy paused and looked oddly at her. "The Enclave? Why would you be interested in that?"

"Well, I just called about a job in the paper," Janine said, trying to be as vague as she could, "and I know it's going to be over there. I was thinking I could get there on my bike."

"Oh," he said and grinned. "You'll have to be in good shape. The Enclave's about eight miles from here, as the crow flies. You'd have to take the Old Swamp Road, then cut off at a path about halfway down and follow it through some really dense jungle till you come out on the back of the old Duncan property." He frowned suddenly and scratched his head. "Come to think of it, that path might not be there anymore. That hasn't been the old Duncan property in almost fifteen years…I think it belongs to some friends of Camille's now. But if the path is still there, it'd make a great shortcut into the Enclave. Just cut around the old Duncan property and head down that dirt lane, and you'll run into the main access road there. Think you can remember all that?"

"I guess so," Janine said a little doubtfully. Maybe this job was going to be more trouble than it was worth. "What if it's not?"

"Then you'll just have to go all the way down Old Swamp and hang a left when you get to the southern arm of the Ring Road. After that you watch for it on the left. That'll add about ten extra miles to your ride. I sure hope that job pays enough to be worth all that pedaling. What's it for?"

"Grocery-shopping," Janine said evasively. "I don't know if I'll even get it—I had to leave a message at the number in the ad. Hey…I thought your girlfriend was coming in on the plane today or something."

Jeremy grinned. "She sure is. I'm bringing her back here so you can meet her, but her plane won't get in till four. Well, good luck with the job." He pulled a bag of potato chips out of the cabinet and headed off to his cellar room, whistling.

He hadn't been gone long, and Janine was poring halfheartedly through the TV listings, when the phone rang and she lunged for it. "Hello?"

A male voice inquired, "May I speak with Janine Polidari, please?"

"Speaking," Janine said breathlessly.

"Ah, good. Hello, Janine, I'm Christian Enstad, and I received your message just now. Are you still interested in the grocery-shopping job?"

"You bet!" Janine exclaimed, then backtracked. "I mean…yes, I am…"

She heard a laugh on the other end. "Good…in that case, suppose you come in at ten tomorrow morning and we'll talk a little. Do you need someone to bring you here?"

"No, I've got a bike," Janine said. "I guess it's a long ride, but that's okay."

"Well enough," said Christian Enstad. "You'll have a chance to meet my niece at the very least, and perhaps my wife if she isn't asleep. I'll explain to you precisely what you'd be shopping for and what nutritional requirements you would need to look for. I look forward to seeing you."

"Me too," Janine said enthusiastically. "Thanks so much, Mr. Enstad."

"You're welcome," he replied, and they said goodbye. Janine hung up and giggled to herself. _Boston, here I come!_ She dashed up to her room to hunt through her closet for something suitable to wear to the next day's interview.


	2. Chapter 2

§ § § -- June 18, 2004

Ingrid had straightened the living room and helped Leslie put the triplets back down for another round of slumber, and now she was loading the washer with a large pile of baby clothing that had been spit up on. Leslie swore she changed the babies' clothes at least six times a day. Yawning, she ventured into the kitchen and began looking absently through cabinets, craving something that wasn't a fruit or a vegetable.

Christian, at the table trying to pay some bills, looked up and laughed. "Sorry, my Rose, I don't think you're going to find anything new since you looked through them last night. Are the babies asleep?"

"We just put them down," Leslie said, nodding. "I thought about trying to sneak in a nap myself before they wake up for their next feeding, but then I realized I was hungry, and I think what I want right now is a big peanut-butter cookie." At his playfully raised eyebrow, she shrugged and said, "Or maybe a big, fat, juicy hamburger with everything on it."

"Don't start," Christian warned, grinning resignedly. "I had dreams about meat loaf all night long. Well, with luck that will change soon—that teenager who answered my ad is supposed to be here in another ten minutes or so. If she seems suitable, I'll take her out to the grocery store myself and show her exactly what she should be looking for. If you want to make out a list, you may as well start now."

Leslie pulled a note pad and a pen off the ledge of the passthrough and took a chair. "Does Ingrid know how to make meat loaf? Come to think of it, is meat loaf a regular dish in Lilla Jordsö?"

Christian laughed again and admitted, "Well, that's actually Mariki's influence, after eating several years' worth of her cooking. Anything with meat in it would be pure luxury by now. Hamburgers…a nice juicy ham…perhaps some thinly sliced roast beef for sandwiches…sausage and perhaps even bacon, to go with eggs at breakfast…ach, even hot dogs." His eyes had lost focus and he settled his chin in his hand, his voice becoming dreamy with anticipation. "Chicken cacciatore, and turkey tetrazzini, and beef Stroganoff, and veal parmesan…" He sighed deeply and closed his eyes while Leslie watched him, fascinated and vastly amused at the same time. "And then there's fish. Lobster, salmon, tilapia, shrimp, crab, swordfish, mackerel…_herregud_, even tuna would be delectable…"

"And silver-speckled trout," Leslie teased.

Christian's eyes popped open and he nodded. "Yes, that too. It's not my favorite _jordisk_ fish, but I do like it now and then. And oh…_kjursbärsrökt sill_! The best autumn dish I ever tasted, growing up! Sometimes it makes me just a tiny bit homesick."

"What was that last?" Leslie asked blankly.

"Ahh…" Christian grinned reminiscently. "Another _jordisk_ specialty—cherrywood-smoked herring. Cherry trees seem to thrive in our climate for some reason, and there's always plenty of cherrywood to use in smoking the local herring. There was a cook at the castle during my early-teen years who was a master at the art, and I've never tasted better, before or since. Perhaps I should see if there's some _jordiska_-language website that Ingrid could get a few recipes from. I may not be able to have _kjursbärsrökt sill_, but at the very least we can have some _jordiska_ specialties that can be made fairly easily with local ingredients. I can look into that later today, if we have a chance." The doorbell rang just then and he got up. "I think that will be our young job applicant. Would you like to meet her?"

"Sure," said Leslie through another yawn. "I think I can manage to stay awake that long." Christian chuckled, dropped a kiss on her lips on his way to the door, and slipped into the foyer. Leslie went back to her list, diligently writing down about ten different kinds of meat and fish, while he opened the door and admitted the teenaged girl who stood there.

"You must be Janine," Christian said, and the girl nodded. He shook hands. "I'm Christian Enstad…we spoke yesterday. Come in." He stepped aside to let Janine in, and the girl ventured ahead, glancing curiously around. Leslie looked up and smiled.

"Oh, you must be Mrs. Enstad," Janine said, staring at her. "My Aunt Camille's been friends with you for years."

At her words Leslie realized suddenly who she was. "Wait a minute—you're Andrea's daughter, aren't you? Nice to finally meet you—I've talked to your sister once or twice, but it's the first time I've seen you."

Janine smiled tentatively. "It's nice to meet you too. Um…congratulations on the new babies and all that."

"Thanks, Janine," Leslie said and got up. "I think Christian's intent was to interview you by himself, but I'll sit in." She followed Christian and Janine into the living room, and sat beside him on the sofa while Janine settled a little uneasily into an armchair, perching on the edge and folding her hands in her lap, interlacing her fingers.

Christian asked several questions in regard to Janine's hobbies and interests, then asked her what she knew about food. "Well," Janine admitted with a candid grin, "I know I hate cooking, and I know I love pizza."

The Enstads laughed, and Christian leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "To tell you the truth, we ourselves wouldn't mind a pizza, but right now our foremost concern is the babies. They're just sixteen days old, and they had an unusually good start in life, according to their doctors. But we're hoping to make certain it stays that way. To that end, what we're trying to do is choose a wide variety of healthful foods for Leslie, so that the babies have the benefit of those nutrients when they're nursing. It's my understanding that the high school teaches a nutritional class; have you taken that?"

"Yeah, just this year," Janine said. "Actually, they gave us recipes in that class, stuff that uses a lot of vegetables and desserts that use a lot of fruit…"

"Oh, no," Leslie groaned. "Sorry to interrupt, but because Christian's niece has no experience with food shopping, that's all she's brought home since the babies and I came home from the hospital. I feel like a rabbit. Not that I don't like fruit and veggies, but both of us are ready to reintroduce meat to our daily diet." Christian laughed with her, and Janine grinned.

"Anyway," she said, "I brought home a bunch of those recipes they gave us in class, and most of them were actually pretty good. My sister and my uncle are kind of picky eaters, and even they liked them. I was doing the cooking, too, and it kinda wasn't all that bad after all. So I know the basics anyway. Are you looking for other stuff too?"

"Doctors are emphasizing a balanced diet," Leslie said. "That means everything—not just veggies and fruit, but meat and fish—at least the fish that pregnant and lactating women are allowed—and the occasional treat too. But since I'm nursing, I've discovered I'm slightly paranoid about getting the right stuff into those babies. So I've made a little vow to myself to give up certain things I love but that have the potential to harm the babies somehow. Unfortunately, that includes swordfish and chocolate."

"Wow, no chocolate?" Janine blurted. "I don't think I could ever do that."

"Well, not for the rest of my life," Leslie said, laughing. "Just till the triplets are weaned, but that's going to be several months from now. Anyway, it's not just the obvious stuff we're trying to get, but also things that come in packages and have labels. For the most part that covers stuff like bread and cereals and other grain-group foods, most beverages, and the forbidden treats that I'll get to sample once in a blue moon if I'm a good girl. That's what we're hoping you can do."

"Exactly so," said Christian. "Atop that, there are certain brand names that we've grown to prefer, so you should keep that in mind as well. Do you think you can do that?"

"No problem," Janine said. She sounded more confident, Leslie thought, although she was still balancing on the edge of the armchair cushion.

"Good," Christian said with an approving nod. "Leslie's made out a partial list, and I'll add to it a bit; then I'll take you out to the grocery store and give you an overview of what we need and prefer. After that you'll be doing it on your own, probably every Tuesday and every Saturday. I'll pay you when you return with the groceries."

"Great," Janine said enthusiastically.

"My love," Leslie broke in hopefully, "do you think maybe you could bring back some peanut-butter cookies too? I'm positively dying for one."

Christian laughed and slid his arm around her, squeezing her. "I think we can do that, yes! Where's your list?"

About fifteen minutes later, just as Christian was preparing to leave with Janine, Margareta emerged yawning from the first floor of the new wing of the house. _"Hallå då,"_ she mumbled hazily, finger-combing her hair.

"You're just now getting up?" Christian asked, pausing to stare at her.

Margareta looked disgruntled. "You know I was up till nearly midnight bathing the triplets. Never in my life did I dream it was so difficult to get a newborn clean." She spotted Janine suddenly and squinted at her. "Oh, hello there."

"Magga, this is Janine Polidari—she's going to take over the grocery-shopping duties in your stead," Christian said. "Janine, my niece, Princess Margareta."

Janine's eyes went wide and she bowed, more deeply than she probably should have. It satisfied Margareta, though, and the princess nodded in satisfaction. "Clumsy protocol, but essentially correct," she said. "Thank you for handling that little task, Janine—I simply can't do it. Oh…incidentally, Uncle Christian, will you take Ingrid with you and tell her to buy some more of those cloth diapers? I know the service provides them, but there never seem to be enough, and I want to make sure you have them when you need them."

"Well, then, send her out," Christian said, "but hurry, for we're about to leave." He watched her go and shook his head. "I'm starting to wonder exactly how much help she's going to be."

Leslie laughed softly. "She's learning as much as we are, my love. At least she erred on the side of caution while she was giving the triplets their baths."

"But it took her nearly two hours to finish," Christian protested.

"I don't get it done all that much faster," Leslie pointed out. "Why don't you and Janine go out to the car, and I'll send Ingrid out after you."

"You were still a good bit quicker than Magga was," Christian grumbled, apparently determined to get in the last word on the subject. "All right—oh, here she comes. If things go well, we should be back in an hour or so." He leaned over and kissed her, smiled, then ushered Janine and Ingrid out ahead of him. Leslie watched them go, then went upstairs to check on the triplets before crawling into bed in the hope of sneaking a nap.

‡ ‡ ‡

Janine tried to keep from being obvious about it, but she couldn't stop slanting quick looks at Christian Enstad. Being introduced to his niece had reminded her that he'd been a prince for most of his life; she hadn't recognized him before that, since her celebrity interests tended to revolve around boy bands and Leonardo DiCaprio. She had wondered if she shouldn't bow at him, the way she'd done at his niece, but he hadn't said anything.

_How did Mrs. Enstad snag this guy?_ Janine wondered, settling into the front seat of the car and watching the former prince peruse the shopping list in his hand. _He's really gorgeous! Why would he give up his crown and move all the way to some little island like this in the middle of the Pacific Ocean? How come she didn't just move back to his country with him and be a princess? That's what I would've done! I bet he really misses his home, like I miss Boston, and I bet he wishes he could go back and be a prince again. The only thing cooler than being royalty would be being a movie star or a rock star. But he's sure a lot better-looking than any of them—even JC Chasez and Leonardo DiCaprio! And he doesn't talk down to a teenager, like a lot of adults do._ She quickly averted her gaze when Christian twisted around in the driver's seat and spoke to the servant at some length in a language she didn't understand. All she heard from the young blonde woman in the backseat was an occasional _"Ja, Ers Höghet"_, whatever that meant. When he finished, he resettled himself and glanced at Janine with a smile.

"My apologies, Janine," he said. "I think it's the first time Ingrid's gone out without Margareta at her side to tell her what she's to do."

"That's okay, Mr. Enstad," Janine said. "Um…if it's not too rude…what language was that you were speaking?"

"Ah, that's only _jordiska_," he said dismissively, starting the car and beginning to back out. "It's most closely related to Swedish, the way British and American English are related to each other. Sometimes a Swede in Lilla Jordsö will have trouble understanding the locals, and the reverse is true as well."

Janine giggled. "Are you going to teach the babies to speak it?"

"We plan to," Christian said with a chuckle, shifting gears and sending the car along the dirt lane. "Of course, that may leave poor Leslie in the cold unless I can force at least a little of the language into her head."

"I think it's cool to know another language," Janine said, quite out of the blue and surprising herself. She herself had never had any interest in taking a foreign language in school. "I guess most people in your country can speak English."

"The majority, yes, though not all by any means," Christian said. "As with so much else, it depends on one's financial status in life. The better off you are monetarily, the more opportunities you have to learn English. Those who are lower-class usually don't know the language, or they can't speak it well even though it's a required subject in school. And many elderly weren't given the opportunity to learn, so they often don't speak it either."

"You must've been really rich, then," Janine said, "since you have hardly any accent at all." She had meant it as a compliment, but Christian laughed and she instantly felt like a complete idiot. _Janine, you bigmouth, that's no way to impress a prince…_

"Ah, well, it's probably less to do with money than class status in my case. I began learning to speak English shortly before my fifth birthday." He cleared his throat, turned onto the Enclave access road and handed Janine the shopping list. "If you'll do me a favor and keep that for me…"

She nodded immediately. "Sure, Mr. Enstad." As she took the list from him, their fingers brushed briefly together, and Janine was amazed at how warm his hands were. His fingers were long and slender, she noticed, and his only jewelry was an extremely expensive-looking Rolex watch and his wedding ring. _If I ever fall in love,_ she decided, _I want him to have nice-looking hands like those. I wonder if he has any nephews who're close to my age. That would be cool, to date a prince!_ She let herself daydream for a few minutes, without consciously realizing that the daydream prince she was being squired by looked exactly like Christian.

On the Ring Road, she was jolted from her daydream by Christian asking the blonde a question in his own language. The subdued voice from the backseat answered the same way it had answered everything else, with only a _"Ja, Ers Höghet"_. Janine wanted to hear him talk some more in _jordiska_, but Christian seemed satisfied with the blonde's answer and merely nodded in response. Curious, she asked what the blonde had been saying.

Christian smiled ruefully. "It only means 'yes, Your Highness'," he said. "I sometimes think no one's aware that I gave up the title several years ago. Nearly everyone still calls me 'Your Highness'—except my employees. Your Aunt Julianne and Uncle Jonathan immediately developed a habit of calling me 'Boss Prince' when I hired them. Occasionally it's annoying, but it's a refreshing change from 'Your Highness' all the time."

"I guess when people have always known you as a prince, they can't get used to you not being one anymore," Janine suggested.

"It seems so," Christian agreed amiably. "It may become a moot point before too long in any case. My niece has introduced a motion in _jordisk_ parliament to strike down the law that requires title relinquishment of any royal who leaves the country to live elsewhere. I still haven't decided whether I like the idea."

Janine stared at him in amazement and exclaimed, "Why not? I mean…it must be really cool to be royalty!"

Again Christian laughed and she felt her face flame with embarrassment. _Another dumb move…good going, Janine!_ "That's the image most people seem to have. Trust me, I know from lifelong experience: being royalty is often tedious, sometimes painful, and at times downright annoying. Most can see only the advantages of being royalty, but there are disadvantages too. When you're of a ruling royal family, you're born famous, and nothing you can do will ever change that."

"I still think it's cool, though," Janine insisted, true to her stubborn-New-England-Yankee roots. "What about your family, though? I bet they like it."

"Leslie's become famous primarily in my home country as a result of marrying me, and our triplets are famous because they're my children. The babies are too young to care, but Leslie finds the status ill-fitting. Royalty used to be quite commonplace throughout Europe and Asia. Now it's fairly rare to be a royal, and even more rare to be a royal with actual power. There are dozens of minor princes and princesses all over Europe whom no one's ever heard of, mainly because most of them are descendants of rulers of principalities that were eventually absorbed into the current European nations—mostly those nations that are no longer monarchies. They have nothing but a nearly-obsolete title, a reasonable amount of wealth if they're fortunate, and too often an inflated sense of their own self-worth."

"Wow," said Janine, astonished. Was that a hint of bitterness she'd heard in his voice in that last phrase? "I heard there's still a Greek royal family, though."

"Yes, there is—they've been in exile for many decades, but they are very royal indeed," Christian said. He might have said more, but the servant in the back asked a question, and he responded in his own tongue again, making Janine listen carefully. Out of nowhere she decided to try to learn some words in _jordiska_. Wouldn't that surprise him!

Another idea occurred to her when she glanced at the list in her hand. "Mr. Enstad, what kind of food do you eat in your country?" she asked curiously.

"Mostly the same things you'd be familiar with," Christian responded, "though we do certainly have our share of specialties." He gave her a quizzical glance. "Are you interested in trying some of them?"

"I think it'd be an adventure," said Janine, who normally shunned any non-American dish. "Do you eat a lot of seafood?"

"Quite a bit, yes. We have a species of trout that can't be found anywhere else in the world, and while I like that well enough, I usually prefer salmon or seafood. But that isn't all we have." She listened as much to the sound of his voice as the words he spoke while he described some of the dishes he'd grown up on, and made up her mind that not only was she going to try learning some _jordiska_, she was going to look online for recipes for some of these dishes. She wasn't very sure about the cherrywood-smoked herring he talked about, but the "breakfast pocket" things he described sounded really tasty, and she wished the cherry seltzer drink he mentioned were available here.

By the time he finished talking they were in Amberville, to her disappointment. It had been really interesting talking to him; now they'd have to get down to business, she supposed. Christian gave the servant a few instructions, pointed at a store across the square from where they stood, and then led Janine down the pedestrian shopping street till they reached the island's sole major grocery store. Janine had found the place rather strange compared to what she was used to back home; there were a lot of weird Polynesian and Japanese items available here and a few Chinese things, in addition to familiar American brand names. However, as Christian led her along the aisles, she realized it wouldn't be all that hard to shop for the Enstads. He stuck mostly with brand names she knew, and the only odd items he picked out were a couple of kinds of fish that she herself didn't like. This job was going to be easy—not to mention interesting.


	3. Chapter 3

§ § § -- June 18, 2004

That teenage girl was one incredible prattler. Ingrid Roslund crossed the square and slipped unobtrusively into the store Prince Christian had pointed out to her, relieved to be away from the talkative girl and wondering how the prince could stand to listen to her. She couldn't understand them, since of course they spoke English, but she was an observer: and she could see that that girl was well on her way to falling in puppy love with the prince. Ingrid herself, like most of the people of Lilla Jordsö, was especially fond of "the happy prince" and was genuinely thrilled that she, of all the servants in the castle, had been chosen to assist in the care of the prince's three new babies. Ingrid also honestly liked Princess Leslie. The lady was more modest than Ingrid had thought she'd be, and she even tried to speak a little _jordiska_ whenever she addressed her.

But falling in love, or even developing a silly crush, was patently out of the question. She was a lowly servant girl and could never hope to aspire to even be noticed by someone as lofty as Prince Christian or any of the rest of the royal family. Besides, Prince Christian was married, which put him irrevocably off limits as nothing else could possibly do. It was clear that he was the happiest he'd ever been, and Ingrid liked being a part—however temporary—of such a love-filled household.

The only lowlight was Princess Margareta. Before the princess had announced her intention to help Prince Christian and Princess Leslie with their new triplets and to choose a servant to come with her, Ingrid had been just a maid, assigned to cleaning the second-floor rooms along with five other young girls from around Lilla Jordsö. No one had had any reason to take much notice of her and Ingrid had been comfortable enough with her position, if unsatisfied. She'd hoped to be assigned to help Princess Anna-Laura care for her orphaned granddaughter, Princess Elisabeth. But it hadn't happened, so that when Princess Margareta had put out the call for someone to travel to Fantasy Island with her, Ingrid had seized the opportunity. It had been a shock and a joy to be chosen.

But she'd learned quickly that Princess Margareta was something of a martinet, not entirely unlike her father, the late King Arnulf II. Margareta snapped out crisp orders and expected them to be obeyed on the spot and without mistakes. She could be a perfectionist, and she was a little too quick to criticize; she was blunt and plain-spoken and never afraid to speak her mind. Ingrid, already shy and fairly easily intimidated, had nearly backed out of the trip, but realized at almost the last minute that if she did, she'd regret it.

So here she was, sharing quarters with Princess Margareta and taking solace in caring for Prince Christian and Princess Leslie's three adorable babies. When she had to be in the same room with Princess Margareta, she held her silence and tried to be as quiet and unobtrusive—and thus unnoticeable—as she possibly could. So far it seemed to be working well enough. Margareta always went briskly about her own business and simply ignored Ingrid's presence whenever they were in her room at the same time. For her part, Ingrid contented herself with writing long letters to her family at home in Mossedal. She much preferred describing her days with the infant triplets, and her admiration for Prince Christian and Princess Leslie, to admitting to her parents and siblings that Princess Margareta scared her. They'd told her when she'd first been hired at the castle that she'd be back within a month because she'd be too terrified of the royal family to cope with the duties required of her. By and large, they had been right about her fears, but she refused to let them know that. She had grimly stuck it out and had soon managed to slip into a comfortable niche in which little or no notice was taken of her…well, at least till she'd come here with Margareta.

She had a lot of strikes against her here, she knew. She couldn't speak a word of English, and she not only didn't know how to drive but couldn't even ride a bicycle. She had no real free time, certainly none in which she could go exploring even if she'd had some way to do so other than walking everywhere. She dared not ask: Princess Margareta would forbid it, flatly and absolutely. And she didn't want to bother Prince Christian with the request either, for he was nearly as busy caring for the babies as his wife. Both parents were worn out every day, grabbing catnaps when they could, trying to make a little time for each other as well as their babies. They needed her badly. Princess Margareta, it had turned out, was all but incompetent in infant care. She had barely mastered the art of dressing the babies, and it took her ages to bathe even one of them, never mind all three. Ingrid did all the cooking, housecleaning and laundry, and she didn't mind this at all; but she sometimes thought cynically that Margareta might as well just go back home and let Ingrid take over the chores of bathing and dressing the babies as well as everything else she did. It had occurred to her to try telling Prince Christian, but she greatly feared he'd be offended if she did; so she kept her wishes to herself.

This was the first time she had been allowed to be alone outside the Enstad house since she'd arrived on Fantasy Island about a month ago. It was frankly scary, solely because of her lack of English. It was her intention to find what she needed, buy it, get out and go wait for Prince Christian and that chatty teenager in the car. She had to wander three aisles before she found the cloth diapers Prince Christian and Princess Leslie preferred to use, and picked out two packages of them, then started for the cashier. This island used American money, and she'd had to take a crash course from Princess Margareta in its denominations and how to use it. It wasn't very difficult, but the fact that all the bills were the same color regardless of their worth made it confusing at times. She had to stop near the end of the aisle and fish out the bills Prince Christian had given her, study them carefully, then ascertain what the price of the diapers was so that she knew she had enough. Also, she wanted the money at the ready to maximize the speed of the transaction.

Then someone swung around the corner, apparently from the next aisle over, and sideswiped her, knocking her off balance. She stumbled against the tall shelves and managed to catch herself; the person who had hit her let out an exclamation and then asked questions in a barrage of frantic English. Ingrid stared apprehensively at him. How could she possibly answer him? She wasn't hurt, but she had no way to tell him so. And she was sorry about that, because he was quite a handsome young Asian man. At last, helplessly, she raised one hand, the one holding the bills, and said weakly, _"Ingen engelska."_ She didn't even know the words to say "no English" and had to relay them in _jordiska_.

The young man cut himself off abruptly and blinked at her. "Huh?"

Ingrid wished to high heaven that she'd been more competent in the English classes she'd been required to take in school. Even for a poor provincial _jordskvinna_, she should at least be able to communicate her lack of dexterity in the language. She tried again anyway. _"Engelska,"_ she said carefully, _"nej."_ She shook her head in the hope he might get it.

The young man said something and smiled ruefully, then peered at her and asked her a question. At her blank look, he grinned, pointed at himself and said, "Jonathan."

Aha…now that, she understood. She smiled tentatively and offered, "Ingrid."

He smiled and offered a hand, and she awkwardly shook it, all too aware of the odd tingling feeling his touch produced in her. His dark-brown eyes reminded her of the dark chocolate she loved, and he had the nicest smile she'd ever seen. She felt pale by comparison. If only there were some way to communicate with him…

Then she remembered her mission and yanked herself up straight with a gasp. She had to hurry! Biting hard on her lip, she gave him a last wistful little smile, then ducked away and rushed to the nearest cashier. She had no wish to incur Prince Christian's wrath, and she'd heard stories that his temper could be formidable when it was provoked. Quickly she paid for her purchases, then left the shop and ran full-tilt across the square to the car.

‡ ‡ ‡

As the family was sitting down to supper Uncle Jeremy broke the news, to Janine's chagrin, by asking cheerfully, "So did you get the job?"

Her mother and Denise both froze to stare at her. "What job?" Denise asked.

Janine gave her uncle a glare that made him blink. "Thanks a lot," she muttered.

"You're sixteen, Janine," Jeremy pointed out. "Did you really think you could fly under the radar with something like that?" He turned to his older sister. "Janine's got a job working for the Enstads. She's going to do their grocery shopping for them twice a week."

Andrea's eyes widened. "No kidding. Good for you." She eyed Janine and added with gentle reproach, "Were you going to tell us about this at some point?"

Janine made a face. "Yeah, I was getting around to it," she muttered, in a way she knew would tell both her mother and her uncle that she wasn't.

"Don't they live in the Enclave?" Denise asked. "That's a long way from here."

"I rode my bike," Janine informed her. "And Mr. Enstad said that when I do the shopping, I can use their car."

Andrea reared back. "Good Lord! And he trusts you to do that, when you're only sixteen and the ink on your license is barely dry?"

"Mom, for crying out loud, I'm almost seventeen," Janine snapped, "and I'm a good driver. Dad gave me a lot of good lessons. And if I could drive in Brookline, then it's nothing to drive here. There's practically no traffic on this island."

"She's got a point, sis," Jeremy remarked, probably trying to make up for having blown her secret as he had. "The only cars to speak of are Mr. Roarke's, and the police jeeps, and the cars that folks in the Enclave own." The phone rang then, interrupting him, and Andrea put down a serving bowl and picked it up.

"Hi, Jonathan, what's up?" she asked. "You are? Where's Julianne? Oh, I see. The nerve of her." Her voice was clearly teasing. "Okay, okay, come on over, we're just about to start eating. Hurry up before it gets cold." She hung up and turned to her brother and her daughters. "Jonathan claims Julianne went off to Hawaii to spend her vacation time at Pat and Jennette's, and he says he's going to starve all by himself."

Jeremy grinned. "Better you feed him, sis, than he blows another wad calling for pizza delivery," he remarked.

Andrea rolled her eyes and took her seat. "Heaven forfend. You and Jonathan are 25, you know—you both need to learn to shift for yourselves. You can't expect me to support you indefinitely. And what if Julianne meets some guy and moves in with him? Even if you go and share quarters with Jonathan, neither of you cooks, and I'm not going to feed you every day. Mom and Dad'll say the same thing, and so would Jimmy and Camille."

"Listen," Jeremy said, "I've got some news that'll blow your socks off. Wait till Jon gets here and I'll tell you. And maybe then you'll eat those nasty words of yours."

"I doubt that," Andrea said dryly, "but I look forward to this news of yours anyway. Okay, girls, go ahead and load your plates. Jonathan can catch up when he gets here."

Janine and Denise were both busily eating when Jonathan arrived and dragged an extra chair to the table. "Thanks, sis, I really appreciate this," he said, serving himself even as he spoke. "You're saving a guy from overdosing on pizza."

"A fate worse than death, all right," Andrea remarked with good-natured sarcasm. "Help yourself, little brother. And what's your news, Jeremy?"

"Oh yeah." Jeremy smirked. "You got to meet Holly last evening, remember? Well, we hung out all day today after I got off work, and I finally got up the nerve to propose to her. And she said yes. So we're gonna get married as soon as we can make the arrangements and get the barebones necessities for a wedding."

"Too cool!" Denise exclaimed, and Jonathan and Andrea both congratulated him. Janine had to smile. It would be strange having them in the basement.

"When does Holly move in?" she asked.

"She doesn't," Jeremy said and laughed. "She got herself an apartment when the hospital hired her, and I'm moving in with her."

"What? You mean I've lost my gardener?" Andrea bantered, laughing. "Well, maybe Jonathan'll take over."

"I'd rather do it," Denise spoke up. "If Janine's got a job, I want some way to earn money too. You could give me ten dollars each time I mow the lawn."

Andrea grinned indulgently and said, "We'll talk about that."

"You got a job, Janine?" Jonathan asked. "Tell me about it."

"It's not much," Janine said, shrugging but smiling. "I'm working for the Enstads, doing their grocery shopping. They have some help with the babies, but they needed someone to go buy food for them, so Mr. Enstad put an ad in the paper and I answered it. I start officially on Tuesday."

"No kidding. That's great," said Jonathan. "Is that all you're doing? You aren't gonna be helping with the babies?"

Janine shook her head. "Heck no," she said emphatically. "I'm just shopping, and that's plenty. Mr. Enstad's paying me twenty-five dollars a trip, so I'll be able to save some good money this summer. His niece and some servant are helping with the babies. Actually, I guess the servant's helping more than the niece is. Mr. Enstad said something to Mrs. Enstad about wondering how much help she'd really be."

"Guess it's a good thing they have the servant, then," said Jeremy.

"Yeah, but Mr. Enstad has to give all the instructions," Janine said. "She doesn't speak any English at all. The only thing she said the whole time we were going to the store and back was 'yes, Your Highness', in _jordiska_."

Jonathan stopped eating and looked hard at her. "She speaks no English _at all?"_

"Yeah, that's what I said," Janine replied, peering at him in surprise. "How come?"

"What's she look like?" Jonathan asked.

Denise giggled. "Uh-oh, I think Uncle Jonathan's got a crush."

Jonathan ignored her, and Janine shrugged. "She's kind of plain-looking. Really light blonde hair, sort of skinny, and she dresses in clothes that look like old medical scrubs."

"What's her name?" Jonathan demanded.

"Ingrid, I think," Janine said, staring. "Why?"

"That must be the girl I saw in the All-Natural shop," Jonathan said excitedly. "I went in there to grab a soda at lunch, and I couldn't remember where the coolers were, so I was cruising all over the joint. I bumped into a girl and tried to apologize to her, but she couldn't speak English. All we could do was tell each other our names and shake hands."

"And now you know how to see her again," Denise said a little tauntingly. "Just go over to your boss's house and ask him if you can date his servant!"

"Denise, that's enough," Andrea warned, and Denise desisted. "I think it's great, Jon, but how can you hope to date her if you can't even talk to each other?"

"I don't know," Jonathan said slowly, then smiled. "But I'm sure gonna try."

§ § § -- June 22, 2004

"Magga…are you having a problem?" Christian asked, leaning against the doorjamb to stare at his niece, who stood at the sink laboriously sponge-bathing Tobias. He had stood there for at least ten minutes gazing on while she, clearly oblivious, meticulously cleaned the infant's every skin fold. Tobias was generally patient, Christian and Leslie had learned, but if his cousin took too long about giving him his bath, eventually that patience would run out and they'd hear his thin but indignant wailing all over the house.

Margareta started and then glared at him in the large mirror. "I'm quite capable of bathing these babies," she said stubbornly.

"Capable you might be," Christian countered. "Efficient you're not. He doesn't have to glow in the dark. Just get him clean, get him dry and get him dressed, that's all."

"There are a lot of places where dirt and other things can settle in and ferment," said Margareta with overdone dignity, making Christian twitch with a barely-suppressed laugh. "If those places are never cleaned, it won't be good for him—nor his sisters either."

"If he's made to sit through a bath too long, he'll get cranky," Christian reminded her. "Surely you know that by now. His mother and I certainly do."

She awarded him a narrow-eyed look of annoyance and tried to return her attention to Tobias. Already the baby was squirming a little; Christian came in and examined him while his niece was painstakingly wiping between Tobias' tiny toes. "Hmm, good, his cord has healed too, just like his sisters'," he remarked approvingly. "As Leslie would say, he'll have an innie."

"A what?" Margareta grunted, swabbing between toes on the other foot.

Christian snorted and took the washcloth from her. "Never mind. Here, let me finish that. At this rate the poor little guy will never get his nap." Margareta stepped back and looked on, her arms folded over her chest, while Christian deftly finished sponging his son clean, then gently dried him and got him into a diaper and a clean sleeper. "You see?"

"Since when have you been such an expert on bathing a baby?" Margareta demanded.

"Since Leslie and I brought the triplets home and did it quite literally by the book," he told her, lifting Tobias up and cradling him against his shoulder. "We propped a book open and followed the directions, and discovered it wasn't as daunting as it seemed."

She scowled and said, "And I suppose you finished bathing the girls?"

"Leslie bathed Karina and I bathed Susanna, in our bathroom," Christian said. "The girls are long since down to sleep." He felt Tobias move and noticed the baby's yawn in the mirror, and grinned. "And Tobias is looking forward to his nap as well. Magga, I think it might be wise for you and me to talk a little, as long as the triplets are down and Leslie's grabbing what sleep she can."

Margareta followed him out of the bathroom and across the hall to the triplets' room. "What are you going to do, Uncle Christian, send me home?"

"I don't know," Christian said, settling Tobias into his crib, closing the blinds at the window and drawing the curtains. "Come on, let's let him be now." Leading her out of the room and not quite closing the door, he returned up the hall, paused by the stairs and looked around the L-shaped divider wall at a soundly-sleeping Leslie, and then nodded at Margareta to precede him downstairs.

"So what do you want to talk about, exactly?" the princess asked, sitting in an armchair. Christian half collapsed onto the sofa, let out a yawn of his own and regarded her.

"Your motives," Christian said. "Magga, the whole family is well aware that when it was discovered that amakarna had rendered you and your sisters sterile, Anna-Kristina and Gabriella were distraught, but you simply shrugged and said that sometimes life dealt blows you couldn't dodge. It never bothered you not to be able to have children."

Margareta looked a little uneasy. "So?"

"So when you volunteered to come here and help us care for the triplets, Leslie and I were amazed," Christian said frankly. "We wondered what had prompted you to make such a decision; it seemed so unlike you. And to be totally honest, I think it's still unlike you. You spend more of your time keeping tabs on your charities now than helping to care for the babies or anything else; all you do with them anymore is bathe them. Ingrid does just about all the housework around here. Tell me, are you truly certain you want to be here the entire summer, with only three infants, a servant and two exhausted parents as company?"

Margareta actually squirmed in her chair. "It's not that bad!"

Christian gave her a stern look and prodded, "Come on, Magga, be honest."

"I said, it's not that bad. I'm still new at this," Margareta said stubbornly. "Give me some time to get used to bathing such new babies…"

Christian shrugged and tossed his hands into the air. "I can't make you tell me," he said resignedly. "I just think you seem uncomfortable around the babies, but if you don't want to admit it, there's nothing I can do about it. Although maybe you'd be better off leaving their bathing to Leslie and me, and perhaps you can change diapers."

Margareta's expression registered absolute horror for just a half second before she controlled her reaction and said, "I have no trouble bathing those babies."

"Uh-huh," said Christian and grinned. "I don't want it to seem as if I'm firing you, but I have to admit—" At that point the doorbell rang, cutting him off. "That's Janine. Wait there till I've given her the car keys and our list." He got up and opened the door, letting in Janine Polidari. She beamed up at him when he welcomed her in, and something about her return of his greeting made Margareta lean forward and squint at her.

"Hi, Your Highness," Janine said politely, catching Margareta's scrutiny.

Margareta nodded coolly at the girl, whose friendly demeanor faded noticeably. They had little time to do more than stare guardedly at each other before Christian came out of the kitchen with a list and the keys to the car. "Here you are."

"Thanks, Mr. Enstad. I should be back within two hours," Janine said brightly.

"Good," said Christian with an approving smile. "Thank you again." He started back for the living room, and Janine stood looking after him for a minute before she caught Margareta eyeing her again. Janine compressed her lips and quickly departed.

Christian sat down and peered at Margareta. "Why the strange look?"

Margareta snorted. "That girl," she said. "I think she's put you on a pedestal, Uncle Christian. It's either hero-worship or puppy love."

"Oh, she's just friendly," said Christian dismissively. "She wasn't even intimidated by my royal past…in fact she asked quite a few questions about Lilla Jordsö. Enough—we were talking about you. As I was trying to say, I think you're beginning to find caring for the babies a trial. Wouldn't you be happier going home and tending to your charities?"

Margareta scowled and demanded, "Are you saying I'm incompetent?"

"No, not at all," Christian said, folding his arms over his chest and peering at her. "I just think this really isn't your milieu. I told you a few minutes ago to be honest with me, and I could see you evading the question. Is this truly what you want to do with your summer? And for fate's sake, Magga, tell me the truth."

Margareta glanced at the door and then studied the floor; Christian waited patiently, and in the midst of this interlude Leslie came down from the bedroom. Surprised, Christian looked over at her, while Margareta sat up, as if thinking Leslie might divert his attention enough to get her off the hook. "I thought you'd sleep much longer, my Rose," he said.

"I did too," Leslie said and chuckled. "Guess it wasn't in the cards right now." She came over and sat beside him. "What's going on down here—private caucus?"

"Caucus, yes; private, not necessarily," Christian said, and they both saw Margareta sag with resignation. Amused, he prodded, "Come on, Magga—the truth."

"About what?" Leslie asked.

"I think her initial enthusiasm for caring for her cousins has waned to nearly nothing, if it hasn't vanished entirely," Christian said. "But I can't get her to admit it, even though I caught her cleaning Tobias as if he were up for inspection by the local health board."

Leslie laughed and asked, "Did he get cranky?"

"He wasn't far from it," Christian observed, and she grinned. "I'm giving her an out to go home if she prefers, and tend to things that she feels much more comfortable with, but for some reason she's stalling."

"I see," Leslie said. She met Margareta's gaze and told her, "Look, Margareta, if you'd prefer to go on home, we don't mind at all. It's not a problem for us. Now that Christian and I are more sure of ourselves in regard to bathing the babies, we can take that little chore off your hands. We do almost everything else that pertains to their care, and Ingrid does all the housework here, and we have Janine doing the shopping. If you'd rather bow out, that's fine with us. My friends have offered their help if we need it."

Margareta glanced at the door again, then saw Christian frown and cleared her throat. "Well," she finally said, "I suppose it makes a little sense for me to go. You don't mind keeping Ingrid here? Don't worry, Uncle Christian, when you're ready to send her home again, her airfare will come from the royal treasury."

Christian shrugged. "I'm not worried about that," he said. "I expect we'll have her here for quite some time to come, possibly through the triplets' first birthday and beyond. She's invaluable to us, keeping our house running while we're devoting our attention to our children. It was kind of you to make the offer, Magga, but we don't want you to feel that you're obligated to remain here because you said you would."

"Well," Margareta finally muttered reluctantly, "I do miss the traveling I do for my charities. And I'm afraid the closest I really want to get to a baby is to pat one on the head when I meet its parents." Christian and Leslie laughed, and she cracked a halfhearted smile. "I have a few qualms about leaving, though."

"Why?" Christian asked.

She opened her mouth, then caught herself, frowned and shook her head. "Nothing I won't get over in time," she said. "I do ask you a favor, Uncle Christian. Before I go, I'd like to talk to Mr. Roarke a bit."

"I expect that can be arranged," Christian said agreeably. "Just let us know when you're ready to go home, and we'll take you to the charter plane and see you off. It'd be a good outing for the triplets too. They've been out to the backyard for short periods, but they haven't actually left our property since we brought them home."

"All right," Margareta said, then sat up and looked around. "Where's Ingrid now?"

"She's in the middle of processing no fewer than five loads of laundry," Leslie said with a rueful smile. "A lot of that is the triplets' clothes, but two loads are Christian's and my stuff, so she's definitely busy." She lit up suddenly and turned to Christian. "My love, I just had an idea! Ingrid does so much around here, I think it'd be nice if we gave her a break from cooking and have Mariki come over and prepare a meal, and Father can come too and eat with us, and spend some time with the triplets. What do you think?"

"Tonight?" Christian asked, wide-eyed. "I think it's a wonderful idea, my darling, but I wonder if it would be too little advance notice."

"Frankly, I think Mariki would be thrilled," Leslie remarked. "She'd see it as a chance to keep me fattened up. If I told her how much weight I've lost just from breast-feeding the babies and all those days we spent as involuntary vegetarians, she'd throw a tantrum they could hear in Hawaii. Do you remember that wonderful Asian meal she cooked the time we set up a dinner to bring Mateo and Anna-Kristina together? I can ask her to make those dishes again. Just thinking about it makes me hungry."

Christian grinned and admitted, "Me as well. All right, then, make the suggestion to Mr. Roarke, and if it can be done, wonderful."

"You won't be inviting that girl, will you?" Margareta asked suddenly.

Christian and Leslie both stared at her. "What girl?" they asked in perfect unison.

"That teenager you hired to do your grocery shopping," Margareta said.

"No," Leslie said slowly, staring at her. "That never crossed our minds. Why?"

Margareta made a face and got up. "No reason," she said in an evasive tone that made her aunt and uncle exchange perplexed looks. "I think I'll see if I've heard anything from Briella and check on my charities as well." She walked briskly across the room and made her way down the hall.

"Well, that was weird," Leslie commented, staring after her.

"She said something earlier about Janine putting me on a pedestal," Christian said with a shrug. "I think she's being slightly paranoid, just because Janine has shown quite an interest in Lilla Jordsö. When I took her into town last week, she asked many questions about it. She seems like a smart, friendly girl, and I like the fact that my belonging to a royal family didn't frighten her."

"I thought she seemed nice myself," Leslie said. "Oh…do I hear something?" She tilted her head to one side, and a second or two later Christian caught it too—the faint sound of a baby crying.

He grinned at her, rising and gathering her into his arms for a moment. "At least it's only one…so far," he said, and they laughed, kissed each other and headed upstairs.


	4. Chapter 4

§ § § -- June 22, 2004

Mariki agreed readily to provide the menu Leslie asked for, and Roarke was more than glad to accept the invitation to dinner. They arrived about five o'clock, at which point Leslie and Christian had just finished with another feeding. The babies, however, showed no sign of wanting to go to sleep just yet, which gave Roarke a chance to hold each of his grandchildren in turn. Little Karina stared up at him, her eyes steady and almost unblinking with what looked like fascination, when her turn came, and he returned her unbroken scrutiny with a smile. "Something tells me this young lady will be following in your footsteps one day, Leslie," he said, at last turning his attention to the infant's mother.

"You mean you think Karina will take my place as your assistant?" Leslie asked.

"Quite possible, yes. Oh, not for many years," Roarke said, laughing at the half-outraged look she speared him with. "I know you too well, my child, to think it's going to happen very soon. But if you'll notice, Karina is giving me a thorough examination, in a way that her brother and sister couldn't be bothered to do."

"Hmm," said Christian with a grin. "If you sense that Karina, at the tender age of twenty days, is going to be your assistant eventually, maybe you know what will become of Susanna and Tobias."

Roarke laughed. "I'm no fortune-teller, Christian," he demurred.

"Perhaps not, but if you can infer so much from the fact that Karina is staring so hard at you, surely you have some idea for Tobias and Susanna," Christian bantered, grinning.

Leslie grinned. "Don't bother asking, my love. Besides, it'll be a lot more fun waiting to see what personalities the triplets develop as they get older. It seems funny that Karina's already formed the habit of staring hard at every new person she encounters. Come to think of it, no matter who's holding her, she stares at them. I could swear she's trying to memorize my face whenever I feed her—and Christian's too, when it's her turn at the bottle."

"It may be some little time yet before the babies can focus properly in any case," noted Roarke, gently brushing one finger against Karina's palm and watching her tiny hand wrap itself around it. "It's merely possible that even at such a young age, Karina is simply trying to examine the world around her. You'll find as they grow older that they'll all develop an intense curiosity about their surroundings."

"At the moment I doubt either Susanna or Tobias cares too much about their surroundings," Christian remarked humorously, watching Tobias yawn and close his eyes before lifting the baby onto his shoulder. "Tobias in particular does like his naps. For that matter, he does everything at full strength…eat, sleep, spit up, eliminate…" Roarke and Leslie burst out laughing, and Christian arose, laughing with them.

"Susanna's pretty easygoing," Leslie said thoughtfully, peering down at the baby in her arms. "She doesn't cry much. Tobias doesn't have any problem letting us know when he's losing his temper, and Karina gets pretty annoyed if she's interrupted during a feeding or before she's ready to wake up. Susanna doesn't do much more than fuss a little."

"Tobias is ready for his next nap, to be sure," Christian said. "If you'll both excuse me for a few minutes…" Roarke and Leslie both nodded, and he toted Tobias off while Leslie rocked an obviously sleepy Susanna and Karina continued to stare at her grandfather.

Mariki came out of the kitchen and stopped short. "Where's the third one? I wanted to get a good solid look at these babies, and here one of them's gone already."

"You just missed Tobias," Leslie said with a grin. "Christian's taking him off to bed; he made it clear he wants to get some more sleep. Susanna's zoning out, but Karina's still pretty alert."

Mariki stopped behind Roarke's chair and peered at Karina, who noted the movement behind Roarke's shoulder and stared back at Mariki. Roarke began to grin, and Leslie started to giggle soundlessly, watching. "I think it's a staring contest, Father," she joked.

"And I believe I can predict the winner of said contest," Roarke remarked, getting another laugh from his daughter. She felt a mild squirming in her arms and looked down at Susanna, who was making faint waving motions with her fists and slowly kicking each foot in turn. Her face was screwed up into the classic sleepy scowl. Leslie tucked her against her shoulder and returned her attention to Mariki and Karina while Susanna burrowed into her mother's soft cotton shirt and began to make little high-pitched grunting sounds.

Mariki squeezed her eyes shut, shook her head hard once and straightened up. "That little demon can stare!" she said, amazed. "I tell you, Mr. Roarke, that child must be able to see into souls. You're not already influencing her, are you, sir?"

"I?" Roarke asked, the epitome of innocence. "This is my first real contact with the child since she and her siblings came home with Christian and Leslie. How, may I ask, could I have had any influence on her in such a short time?"

"Because, sir, you are who you are," Mariki reminded him darkly, and Roarke shook his head, chuckling. "Actually, once Prince Christian returns, you can come into the kitchen any time and sit down. Just as Miss Leslie asked, we're having gingered shrimp and soba, Japanese sesame spinach, and shiitake miso soup, with ginger peach crumble for dessert."

"And my stomach is roaring in anticipation," Leslie said, cuddling Susanna and grinning at Mariki. "Let me take this little sleepyhead up and get her comfy, and I'll be right back to dig in."

The meal was delicious, and Margareta, who had finally emerged from her room to join them at the table, expressed amazement at how tasty the exotic Asian dishes were. "I was never very adventurous with my culinary tastes," she admitted. "I can see now I've been missing a lot. I'll have to explore more foreign-food restaurants when I go home."

"Are you planning to return already?" Roarke inquired.

Margareta nodded, and together she, Christian and Leslie explained the reasons for her early departure. "Ingrid will be staying, though," Christian said. "She's proven to be an invaluable help to us, and I have a feeling we'll ask her to remain for quite some time to come—perhaps even past the triplets' first birthday."

"They'll be a handful, to say the least," Leslie said with a nod, "especially after they're mobile. Having Ingrid around will be a tremendous help."

"Far more than I will," Margareta said dryly, and Leslie turned red, making everyone laugh. Margareta patted her aunt's arm, snickering. "I'm only teasing, Aunt Leslie, and you should know that. But…if you don't mind, Mr. Roarke, as long as you're here, I'd like the chance to speak with you in private for a few minutes."

"Of course, Your Highness," Roarke agreed, and Christian and Leslie took that as their cue to leave the table. Mariki went with them, ostensibly to talk them into letting her get a peek at the sleeping triplets, but primarily to give Margareta the privacy she had requested. Roarke sat back in his chair and nodded quizzically at the princess. "Is there something on your mind?" he asked.

"Yes, I think you could say so," Margareta said, clearing her throat. "Mr. Roarke, my family knows me for being blunt and straightforward. I see no reason to be different now." She leaned forward. "Did you know that Uncle Christian and Aunt Leslie have hired a teenage girl to handle their grocery shopping for them?"

"I believe Leslie may have mentioned it in passing," said Roarke.

Margareta nodded. "Well, I think she has an unhealthy crush on Uncle Christian."

"Oh?" said Roarke, surprised. "What brought you to that conclusion?"

"I saw her this morning when she came to get their car keys and a grocery list," said the princess. "She stared at Uncle Christian with a certain look—one I recognize because I used to see it so often on my sister Anna-Kristina and my late cousin Cecilia. That girl said hello to him in a way that sounded exactly like they did when they said hello to some boy they had a crush on. And when Uncle Christian turned away from her, she stood there and stared at him before I caught her at it and embarrassed her into leaving."

Roarke took that in for just a moment, then regarded her with a slight smile. "Forgive me, Your Highness," he said gently, "but has it occurred to you that you may be jumping to conclusions? You have only observational evidence."

Margareta shrugged. "I know a crush when I see one, Mr. Roarke," she maintained.

Roarke said kindly, "You may or may not be correct, Your Highness; but even if you are, keep in mind that crushes are usually temporary. It may be a case of celebrity adoration; after all, Christian is well-known, and he is not only too old for the girl, but married as well. Undoubtedly the young lady in question is fully aware of this."

Margareta stared at him, looking genuinely bewildered, and asked, "Mr. Roarke, what possesses a girl, or even a woman, to develop a case of love like that, for someone it's not possible for her to have a relationship with?"

Roarke drew in a breath and released it slowly. "Many factors play a part, Your Highness," he said. "Often it's simply a step in a girl's maturation; most teenaged girls eventually develop a crush on one or another celebrity figure—a movie star, a pop-music star—someone very talented and physically attractive, perceived as being the ideal mate, but patently unobtainable. Such crushes are quite normal and often help a girl prepare to fall in love with someone for real. Occasionally it's due to proximity; if an older male authority figure such as a teacher pays more attention to a girl than most—tutoring her, for example—she may develop a crush in that manner. And sometimes it's because a girl is lonely, feels isolated and set apart, and longs to belong in some manner—or perhaps, to get away from her real life and find solace in one she has created in her daydreams. Often the perfect mate in those daydreams will, again, be a person whom it's simply impossible for her to have."

"But I still don't understand," Margareta protested. "It makes no sense."

"A crush is perceived, unconsciously at least, as being safe," Roarke explained. "Deep inside, a girl with a crush on a popular entertainment figure knows full well that she has no chance of ever being noticed by that person, much less having her feelings returned. She can fulfill her dreams of being in love, without ever actually having to deal with the awkwardness of learning to know the person—and thus his inherent flaws—or the possibility of being rejected." He thought for a moment and then met her gaze. "Very occasionally, a crush does become somewhat dangerous, at least for the girl; she may become too immersed in it and try to act on it. She may reveal her feelings to the object of the crush, or make repeated attempts to flatter him or show him how she feels without actually articulating it. But don't fear for Christian, Your Highness. I doubt very much that this girl will go that far. As I said earlier, she knows he's married, and she knows she's far too young for him; she'll indulge herself in daydreams, most likely, and leave it at that."

"I hope you're right," Margareta murmured dubiously.

Roarke grinned a little and remarked, "Evidently you yourself have never experienced a crush, or you wouldn't have so many questions and concerns about it."

Margareta's head came up sharply and her face reddened. "Crushes are silly," she announced. "They're really a waste of time, in my eyes. If a girl must fall in love with someone, she should have the good sense to choose someone she actually has a chance with, and then she should declare herself straight out. Anna-Kristina and Cecilia mooned like fools over several such crushes before they got enough sense to fall really in love. I found the whole thing ridiculous. Love is too complicated and burdensome to bother with, and I don't need that sort of trouble in my life."

"Indeed," Roarke said, very amused. "Your Highness, if I were you, I wouldn't worry about this girl. She may very well have a crush on Christian, but you can rest assured that one day she'll outgrow it, or find someone more suitable to devote her attentions to."

"Hmph," the princess muttered, shaking her head and then looking up. "Well enough, Mr. Roarke, I'll take your word for it. But I insist that you promise me that if that child's crush grows out of proportion and she attempts to turn it into something it can never be, you'll tell Uncle Christian about it immediately. He should know, so that he can take the necessary steps to stop it."

Roarke nodded. "Very well," he said lightly. He expected that Margareta knew full well he was humoring her, but she seemed happy enough with the bone he tossed her. Even if this alleged crush did exist, and even if it did get out of hand, he knew Christian was more than capable of handling the problem himself.

§ § § -- June 25, 2004

"Hey, Boss Prince, what're you doing in here on your birthday?" blurted Jonathan Ichino in disbelief. "You're not supposed to be in here at all!"

"It's my business, I can drop in any time I like," Christian returned with a grin, "and I can also leave at any time I like. As a matter of fact, I came in so I can show off my daughters and my son, and give Leslie a chance to have her hair cut the way she's been wishing aloud she could do. It just happens that when she had the appointment made, it fell today."

"Oh, well, in that case, welcome to the old salt mine," said Jonathan, chuckling. "So where are these little cherubs I've been hearing about?"

"Right behind me with our young maid," said Christian. "Their second official outing. Their first was when Leslie and I took them to the plane to see their cousin Margareta off to Lilla Jordsö. Here she is…come and see." Ingrid pushed the door open and brought in the triplets' stroller backwards, then turned it around. Instantly Beth Keoki and Julianne fell head over heels in adoration with the three babies, rushing up to kneel in front of the stroller and admire the infants. Karina stared with her usual concentrated fascination, and Susanna and Tobias both followed suit; they had lagged slightly behind their sister in developing, but were beginning to catch up. During feedings both Christian and Leslie talked softly but animatedly to their babies, sometimes laughing at themselves and each other, but completely comfortable in their newly acquired parenthood; and they found it a delight to see Tobias and Susanna responding right along with Karina.

"They're so beautiful!" Beth exclaimed softly, beaming at Karina. "Hi, little one!"

"Hi, sweetie," Julianne cooed, holding her finger against Susanna's hand and squealing softly with delight when Susanna grasped it and held on. "Oh, good girl!"

"That's a reflex," Christian informed her wickedly. "We looked it up: every baby does it, and it's called the Palmar grasping reflex. Touch a baby's palm and the fingers will grab whatever touched it—no matter what it is. Your finger isn't special, Julianne. If you'd put a pencil in her hand, she would have grasped it precisely the same way."

"Geez, thanks, Boss Prince," Julianne grumbled, and he laughed while Beth settled onto her knees and got first Karina, then Tobias to wrap a hand around each of her index fingers. Christian chuckled at that while Anton and Mateo got up to come take a look at the triplets, and got involved with asking questions about them while Beth and Julianne went on cooing and fawning over the babies.

Unnoticed by any of the others, Jonathan was staring at Ingrid, whose face had gone brilliant red and who couldn't seem to lift her gaze from the floor. She was afraid to move or even look up, much to Jonathan's consternation; her shyness and self-consciousness were very easy to read on her face. He longed to actually call her name, get her attention somehow—but with Christian right there, and his sister easily within earshot, he was afraid to. Julianne would make fun of him; but much worse in Jonathan's eyes was his fear that Christian might disapprove of Jonathan's wish to get to know Ingrid, and forbid it. So he stared at her, wishing, being quietly miserable, and wondering when he'd ever see her again; and she stood there in red-faced silence, without moving.

Karina had started to lose her fascination for Beth's and Julianne's faces and was now beginning to whimper a little, though she continued to hold Beth's finger. "Mr. Enstad, I think something's wrong with this one," Beth volunteered.

Christian peered over the top of the stroller. "Ah, I see," he said. "A moment, if you'll all excuse me…" He turned to Ingrid and asked her in _jordiska_ to check Karina and see if perhaps her diaper needed changing; the red-faced servant girl offered a quick, shallow curtsy, murmured acquiescence and edged in between Beth and Julianne to lift Karina out of the stroller. Christian gestured at the small bathroom in the back of the office, and Ingrid took Karina off in that direction, diaper bag swinging from one arm. Jonathan watched her go—and Julianne watched him watch.

"Which one did she take?" Beth asked.

"That's Karina," Christian said. "Susanna is the one hanging onto Julianne, and Tobias has your other finger."

"Noble names," Anton Lauterhoff volunteered. "Where did you get them?"

"Susanna is for my mother," Christian explained, "and Leslie insisted on giving our son one of my other two given names. Karina is one of Anna-Kristina's other names."

Mateo, to his surprise, looked astonished. "It is? I never knew that."

Christian blinked and began to laugh. "You can't be serious—she never told you her full name?" he exclaimed.

"No, she didn't. I suppose I'll have to ask her why," Mateo said with a grin. "Does she know you named her cousin after her?"

"Now just a moment—we didn't actually name Karina after Anna-Kristina," Christian said, still laughing. "I happened to like the name very much, and I was aware of it before my sister-in-law took it and what seemed like half the other possible names in the country to give to your wife. I wanted to use it because I like it, and fortunately Leslie liked it as well. But it does seem as if all three babies are named after someone, though I objected to her choice of Tobias for our son. I wanted to call him Lukas…" He smiled a little sheepishly, then shrugged and finished the sentence. "…after my grandfather." Everyone laughed.

"They are still noble names," Anton said with a smile. "And from what I remember hearing about your mother as I grew up, little Susanna has quite the role model."

Christian smiled, misty and a bit wistful. "Her middle name is Shannon, after Leslie's mother," he said, "and we both wish it were possible for all the children to meet their grandmothers. Ah, but that's another story. How have things been getting along in here since I went on paternity leave?"

They took turns providing him with an update, during which Ingrid emerged from the bathroom with Karina, once more catching Jonathan's helpless attention. She passed within reach of him, and he couldn't keep from stepping in front of her. "Ingrid," he said, very softly, very pleadingly.

She stared at him, huge-eyed. "Jonathan," she replied, the only thing she could say that he'd understand. Then she added helplessly in _jordiska, "Vi har ingen chansa, utan att vi snacker samme språk…"_ Leaving him trying to sort that out, she ducked aside and took more care than she really needed to in settling Karina back in the stroller.

"And what about the financial aspects, Jonathan?" Christian asked suddenly, jerking Jonathan's attention back to business. "Needless to say, I admit to being quite interested in that, since we now have the expense of raising children."

What Jonathan really wanted to do was ask him to translate whatever Ingrid had just said, but he forced himself to concentrate on Christian's question. "Actually, Boss Prince, we're doing great, and I'm getting glowing reports from the accountants in your offices in Sundborg and London too. Matter of fact, the London business is thriving like mad, and they wanted me to check in with you first chance I got about moving to a bigger building."

"Really," said Christian, looking pleasantly surprised. "Why don't you do some advanced mathematics, then, and let me know if you think it's feasible. Beth mentioned that the cost of several components has gone up a bit. Do you think I'll need to raise charges for certain services based on that?"

"Probably not here on the island, but likely in the European locations," said Jonathan, resigned to the business talk. "I was e-mailing back and forth with your sister-in-law and she said that unless you up your charge on at least three different services—and that should include one you find yourself providing frequently—the original office will start losing money, which you really don't want."

"Well enough," Christian said with a nod. "You and Beth can prepare a quick report on that for me, and e-mail it to me at home. After that I'll go over what I charge for services at all three locations and work something out, and I'll copy you and Amalia both on the one for Sundborg. Just keep me informed and I'll try to check in via e-mail at least once a day."

"Suits me, Boss Prince," Jonathan said, not daring even to flick the merest glance at Ingrid. "We'll probably have some ideas in no time."

Christian grinned and said, "Well, give it a day or two—the time difference between here and the other two offices is brutal." He turned to Ingrid and asked her a question in _jordiska_, and she replied with a nod and something that sounded to Jonathan as if it were deferential, especially when she added another quick curtsy to it. Christian nodded and turned back to his employees. "Well, then, I think we'll be off. Have a good day, everyone."

"Happy birthday," they chorused, adding "Boss Prince", "Mr. Enstad" or "Christian" according to whatever each individual was accustomed to calling him. Christian grinned again, murmured a thanks and ushered Ingrid out ahead of him with the stroller. Jonathan watched them go while Anton, Mateo, Beth and Julianne returned to their desks, and finally took his seat to start crunching the numbers Christian had asked for, though he had little enthusiasm for the task. Fortunately for his mood, he didn't notice Julianne's speculative look and faint smile.


	5. Chapter 5

§ § § -- June 26, 2004

Janine had spent some time trying to work out the logistics of her little plan, and had finally opted to spend a little of her slowly accumulating funds on a small cake. She knew the former prince's birthday had been the previous day, but obviously she didn't do his grocery shopping on Fridays. Well, one day late wasn't so bad. So she had called the main grocery and put in an order, telling them she would pick it up today, and had plans to do this when she did the rest of the Enstads' shopping and brought it home. That way she'd be spared the perils of trying to balance a cake on her bike.

Breathless with anticipation, she let her bike coast down the old path her Uncle Jeremy had told her about, glancing now and then into the shady grounds of the Harding property. A four-foot cinder-block wall, painted white, marked off the grounds, making it an easy thing for Janine to go along its back boundary and then down the eastern side to the lane, which she crossed directly in front of the Enstad driveway. As had become her habit, she parked the bike beside the front walk, out of the way of the car, and trotted to the front door, ringing the bell.

After a moment or two the door opened, revealing Leslie, who held a cordless phone in one hand and a baby on the opposite shoulder. "Oh, hi, Janine," she said and grinned in greeting. "Come on in. I'll get you the list and the keys." Janine smiled politely back at her, her stomach sinking because it wasn't Christian, and followed her in, stopping in the foyer and wondering where Christian happened to be.

Leslie put the phone back to her ear. "Sorry, Camille, your niece just came in to get our list for the groceries. What was that?" She listened for a few minutes, making "mm-hmm" noises now and then, and hunched her shoulder to trap the phone against her ear while she found the list among a bunch of unopened envelopes on the table and then took the car keys off a hook that was attached to a cute little wooden rack on the wall. Then she said, "That's really interesting. Wait'll I tell Christian." Janine's stomach went light at the mere mention of his name and she smiled faintly to herself, without realizing she was doing it. "Just a sec…" Leslie relaxed her shoulder, caught the phone in her hand and set it on the table, then turned to Janine and handed her the keys and the list. "Here you go. Don't worry about how long it takes. Oh, and by the way…would you make a little side trip for me? I ordered something at the Scent Shoppe in town for Christian, and they called me three days ago to let me know it was in…and I completely forgot to get it yesterday. If you'd do me a big favor and pick that up, I'll give you an extra five dollars."

"Sure, Mrs. Enstad," Janine agreed, wondering what in the world she could have gotten him. "Thanks."

"I owe you one," Leslie said and grinned at her again. "You're really helping us out, and we appreciate it." Janine smiled politely again and made her escape, feeling strangely down in the mouth because she hadn't seen Christian. _Well, maybe I'll see him when I get back…and anyway, I'll have the cake for him. And if _she _isn't around, I could give him whatever she ordered for him. I bet he'd really appreciate that._ Spirits beginning to rise, Janine walked into the open garage, slid into the car and started it. As she always did on these little excursions, she waited till she was about halfway down the lane before cranking the radio. When her Uncle Jeremy was on shift at the island's only radio station, he played some pretty cool music. One of Janine's favorite songs was playing, and she sang along.

She went to the Scent Shoppe first, explained why she was there, and received a small gift-wrapped box. Some sort of cologne, obviously; Janine wondered what it was. She left the shop, headed for the grocery and did the shopping, picking up her cake order last. All the while she was humming quietly to herself, imagining what would happen when she got back to the Enstads' house. This time, she told herself, Christian would answer the door, and she'd bring in all the groceries herself, then present him with the cake and the gift box. And he'd be very surprised and thrilled, she knew. Undoubtedly he wasn't expecting her to know when his birthday was, and he'd probably be very flattered. She occupied the drive back with all kinds of rosy daydreams.

To her delight, Christian did indeed answer when she knocked the second time. "Ah, hello, Janine. Leslie told me you'd come by for the keys and the list. I'll help." She agreed immediately, and felt as if she could walk on air, having him striding along beside her on the way back to the car.

"It sure is a pretty Saturday," Janine observed.

"Yes, it is, isn't it?" Christian agreed. "I've always wondered if the lovely summer weather here is natural, or if there's some other factor to count in." He grinned and lifted a few bags out of the back. "It's been a delight to get acclimated to, though."

"I guess you must get a lot of snow in Lilla Jordsö," said Janine, deliberately taking care to pronounce the name as close to correctly as she could get.

"We do, yes," Christian said amiably. "That's a very good approximation of the proper pronunciation, by the way." Janine beamed. "I have many memories of powerful storms off the North Sea—not just winter storms, but summer ones too."

"What kind of summers do you get?" Janine asked.

"You'd be surprised…they can be very warm," Christian told her, nudging the door open with one foot and toting in four bags. Janine came behind him with an equal number. "Not only that, but our summer days are very long as well, because we're very far north. Just around this time of year, sunset doesn't occur until somewhere around eleven at night, and it will rise again near three in the morning."

Janine gawked at him, genuinely stunned. "Wow! How do you sleep at night?"

"Most people have blackout curtains in their homes," Christian said, leading the way back out to the car once more. "Everyone finds a way to cope."

"Wow," Janine said again, mulling that over. Then she saw the cake box waiting, and got some of her senses back. She watched him gather more bags, picked up the two he hadn't been able to grab, and lifted the cake box, trying to carry it behind her back so he wouldn't see it right away. "Oh," she said, trying to keep the conversational ball rolling, "I learned all about that funny little pastry that commemorates a ceramic bell."

"Oh, the _jordsklocka_," Christian said and chuckled. "Then you've read the legend?"

"Yeah! I thought that was pretty cool," Janine remarked, though deep down she had wondered what had possessed people to think a ceramic bell would last any length of time in a belfry, especially in the face of the sort of storms Christian had described. It had amazed her to discover that it had survived for more than two years. "I'd really like to see that bell sometime. Heck," she went on recklessly, carried away by her idea, "maybe I'll even apply to attend Premier University!"

"Good for you," Christian said warmly, smiling and setting the last bags on the table. "It's a very good school—went there myself. Very attractive, too." He poked into one of the bags and began unloading it. "Let me get a few of the perishables put away and I'll give you the money I owe you."

"That's okay," Janine said, waiting till his back was turned and then bringing the cake box out from behind her back, putting it quietly on the table. When he turned around, he noted the box and paused. "Hmm…I don't remember ordering a cake…"

"Oh, I did that," Janine said eagerly. A startled look crossed his face, and she lifted the lid and said, "Happy birthday!"

Christian's hazel eyes went wide with disbelief. "Oh, now, you really didn't have to do that," he protested, blinking. "It was a very nice gesture, but perhaps it was too much."

"I wanted to do it," Janine assured him, watching him inspect the cake. "It's a spice cake with cream-cheese frosting. I hope that's okay."

Christian stared at the cake, looking a little blindsided, and just then Leslie came down the stairs and crossed the living room. "Oh, good," she said. Janine watched her come into the kitchen, suddenly apprehensive and more than a little resentful.

"Look, Janine got me a cake for my birthday," said Christian.

"Oh my gosh," said Leslie, amazed. "What a nice gesture! That was really sweet, too much maybe, but sweet. You should have a piece of it, Janine."

Janine managed a smile, wishing she'd thought to take the gift box out of her pocket and give it to Christian before Leslie had put in her appearance. Reluctantly she pulled it out and handed it to her. "Oh," Leslie said, "thanks again."

"For what?" Christian asked, beginning to look more normal.

"I just asked Janine to pick up something in town for me," Leslie said offhandedly and extracted a five-dollar bill from her purse, handing the note to Janine. The action seemed to remind Christian of something, and he tugged his wallet out of his back pocket, unfolding it and taking out another five and a twenty.

"We both appreciate this, again," he said, handing her the money and glancing a little doubtfully at the cake, while Janine folded the bills and tucked them into her pocket.

"Stay for some cake?" Leslie offered, lifting the box and starting for a kitchen counter.

Deflated by Leslie's arrival and even more so by Christian's reaction to the cake, Janine shook her head. "No thanks," she murmured. "Well…see you Tuesday."

"Careful going home," Leslie said amiably before Janine made her escape. She scuttled out and mounted her bike, a belated sense of mortification overtaking her. _Maybe I overdid it,_ she thought. _But gosh, I just wanted to give Christian something nice for his birthday, and everybody oughta have a birthday cake! I bet he'd have been happier about it if _she_ hadn't walked in and ruined everything. Why in heck does he have to be married, anyway? I heard he had two really crummy marriages, and in between he was a bachelor for years and years. You'd think two rotten wives would sour him on getting married again. And I mean, look at her, she's not even really that pretty. She doesn't look like she belongs next to a guy as gorgeous as he is. And now she's had three babies, and she's probably still fat from that, and she's old too…probably pushing forty, like Aunt Camille. And not only that, he's stuck with those babies too…three of them, no less!_ Janine's mortification gradually gave way to indignation as she pedaled hard to get her bike up the hill alongside the Harding property. _Imagine a prince having to take care of three screaming little brats who spit up all over his nice clothes, and poop all over everything…I hope he makes_ her _change all the diapers, since he's royalty and she's just a commoner. I'm never going to do anything as gross as have kids. If he was with me…he wouldn't have to worry about all that. Oh, well, I know he's old and all…but he doesn't _look_ old, and he's so nice, and he answers all my questions about his country. Man, how come he had to be married?_ Determined to find another way to impress Christian Enstad, Janine pedaled home with her thoughts churning.

After Janine's departure, Christian watched Leslie tote the cake box to the counter and set it down, preparing to cut a piece for each of them. "Do you believe that?" he finally asked. "Why would she go and buy me a birthday cake?"

"Maybe she just wanted to say happy birthday," Leslie replied whimsically, grinning at him. "She's been a real help, and she's a really nice kid. Besides, she did me a favor, which I hope will get me out of the doghouse with you."

"Is that so?" he inquired, his bewilderment easing, and crossed the kitchen to slip his arms around her from behind. "And what would that be?"

Leslie laid the butter knife across a corner of the box and turned in his arms, smiling at him. "You were sweet not to say anything, but I still feel guilty for being late with this." She presented him with the gift-wrapped box. "Happy birthday, my love."

Christian laughed softly and hugged her. "To tell you the truth, it was the last thing I expected, my Rose, but I appreciate the gesture. And believe me, you were never in the doghouse with me." He kissed her, then opened the box to reveal a new bottle of his favorite rare cologne. "I don't know how you do that. Even my father, no matter how much he ranted and roared, couldn't convince that perfumery to ship him his order—someone always had to make the trip to Paris to get it. Yet they ship to you without a squeak."

Leslie grinned at him and said, "I have connections." He rolled his eyes and they both laughed. "Well, how about some cake?"

"Hm," Christian mumbled, peering at it again over her shoulder. "She said it was spice cake with cream-cheese frosting. It sounds good, but I still can't believe she did that."

"I think she was simply trying to be nice, and accidentally went overboard," Leslie said lightly. "Don't fret about it, my love, and just enjoy it. Hey…I just remembered. You were sleeping when she showed up here…right in the middle of a phone conversation with Camille. And Camille had some really intriguing news."

"Did she?" Christian inquired, accepting a slice of cake. "Do tell."

"She was talking to Julianne," Leslie said, "and Julianne mentioned you'd dropped in at your office yesterday with the triplets. She apparently saw Jonathan staring at Ingrid just about the whole time you were there, and Camille said that Julianne told her the expression on Jonathan's face made her think he's got it bad for Ingrid."

Christian stopped chewing a bite of cake and stared at her. She nodded, and he swallowed hastily. "How did I manage to miss that?"

"You're a man, my darling," Leslie said comfortably. "Men usually don't take notice of things like that. Anyway, Camille mentioned she's also been talking to Andrea, and other than Andrea's passing mention of Janine working for us, she talked about nothing except the apparent fact that Jonathan is determined to forge a relationship with Ingrid. That's based on one supper Jonathan ate over at Andrea's."

Christian shook his head and took another bite. "Well," he remarked around it, "if we get the same story from several different sources, then it must be true." He swallowed again and stood quietly, contemplating something, before shrugging one shoulder. "I suppose we can always ask Ingrid. That is, I can ask her, since she speaks no English. _Which,"_ he went on as if pouncing, "is going to present one hell of an obstacle to this little romance-in-the-making. One will have to learn the other's language—and considering the way of the world, it's going to have to be Ingrid."

"Poor kid," Leslie murmured and smiled faintly. "I think she's afraid of you, my love. She turns red a lot, and she always curtsies to you and calls you 'Your Highness', official status or not. I don't know if you'll be able to get her to confess."

Christian snickered. "You make it sound as if she committed some crime. Anyhow, there's no other way to do it. I noticed she was just about terrified of Magga, as if she thought that every time Magga spoke, she must leap up and do her bidding. She must have thought Magga was hiding a whip and waiting for a chance to crack it."

"Well, Margareta is pretty blunt and direct," Leslie noted. "Not that I'm an expert on this, but it occurred to me more than once that she has some of Arnulf in her."

"She has quite a bit of Arnulf in her," Christian said, nodding. "Perhaps my approach will be less of a threat to Ingrid." He paused and eyed his piece of cake, then grinned. "But first, I finish eating my birthday cake." They laughed together and ate the remainder of their cake, moving the conversation to other topics.

§ § § -- June 29, 2004

Christian hadn't been sure about how to approach Ingrid in regard to whatever feelings she might have about Jonathan, at least till Leslie suggested he simply offer to teach Ingrid a little English. "Don't tell her why," she said. "Just say you think it's important that she know a few words, and then work out something. I know we're all busy around here, but there has to be some way."

"I'd think so," he agreed, looking down suddenly at a squirm in his arms. Leslie had the girls at the breast, and he was feeding Tobias. "You know, it still stuns me at times to know that I have children now. And I don't mean to detract from the girls, but it amazes me all the more to know I have a son. I know it's much too soon to have any inkling what he may become, or even what his personality will be like. But I still find myself looking forward to the day they can all speak, and I can teach him and his sisters their background, and get to know what makes all three of them tick. I spent years alone, stopped thinking I'd ever be a father—and now here I am, and I had utterly forgotten the wonder of the experience. Every time one of my siblings produced a child, there was sheer amazement at what they'd got. Now I know firsthand how it feels. I truly love these three bits of humanity." He smiled and then met Leslie's gaze, adding gently, "But just a little less than I love their mother."

Leslie smiled at him, feeling her eyes misting over. "I think I have everything I ever wanted out of life," she said. "These babies, a place of my own—and you, most of all. The day you came to this island for the first time and we met was the day all my dreams started to come true."

They kissed softly, lingering for a moment; then Christian smiled just a little slyly and said, "Actually, it was the second time."

"What?" Leslie said, blinking. "You lost me."

"When I set foot on this island," he said, the smile spreading into a grin. He glanced at Tobias, then went on, "Remember, the first time I came here was when Brian and Lauren hired me to create their business website."

Leslie stuck out her tongue and he snickered. "Petty details," she scoffed cheerfully. "I still like to quietly remember that day every time July 7 rolls around. And it's coming up again pretty soon, too. Isn't it astonishing?—we've known each other eight years!"

Christian stared at her. "That long? I suppose somehow it doesn't seem so, because we spent more than half that time forced to remain apart. Frankly, I look forward to July 8, 2005. For me that will be another red-letter day."

"Why?" asked Leslie.

"Because that will be the day that my marriage to you becomes longer than either of my other two marriages," Christian replied. "When I can say at last that I've been married to you longer than to either Johanna or Marina, I'll be proud." He caught her look. "I know, it's very silly. But consider this—I spent more than seven years of my life married to women I didn't want to be married to. Johanna and I loathed each other; Marina and I tolerated each other. You and I love each other, which makes all the difference on earth."

"Just wait till the day our marriage outlasts both your other marriages combined," said Leslie and grinned. "You won't know what to do with yourself." They laughed softly, and on that note Leslie felt Karina let go of her. "That's one. I bet Tobias will be the last one to finish, as usual."

"They're developing habits," Christian said, nodding, turning his attention back to his son. "A little predictability is a good thing, especially in babies, who by definition are unpredictable." They laughed again. "I'll call Ingrid to burp her." They had had to rely on Ingrid for this whenever Karina was one of the two that Leslie was feeding at a given session, for Leslie couldn't lift Karina to her shoulder with only one arm, and Christian needed both hands to feed whichever triplet was on the bottle. Leslie had admitted that such a forced arrangement made her a bit jealous, but Christian had assured her that Karina would have no future trouble identifying her mother. "All Ingrid does is burp her," he'd pointed out. "She doesn't feed her as you and I do, nor dress or bathe her or change her diaper, and she doesn't hold her and rock her and sing to her as you do."

Ingrid came out at Christian's hail and deftly tossed a thick absorbent cloth over her shoulder, then lifted Karina out of Leslie's embrace and put her to her shoulder, patting gently. Leslie smiled thanks, and Ingrid reddened but managed a smile back.

"Forgive me, my Rose," Christian said, "but if you don't mind my getting this over with now…" She chuckled, and he smiled before turning to Ingrid and speaking in _jordiska_. "Tell me, Ingrid…do you think it would be beneficial for you to learn English?"

Ingrid, startled, stared at him. "Yes, I think it might, Your Highness," she said quickly after a moment, though her tone was hesitant. "I know I should have learned it in school, and I thought I was stupid…"

"Who told you that?" Christian asked and shook his head. "If you want to learn, there should be nothing stopping you. I should be able to take you into town on the occasions when we go in, and ask you to do a few errands for us. You may not need to speak to anyone on all those occasions, but there may come times when you need help, and you won't know how to ask for it. If you're to remain here for any appreciable length of time, you'd do well to learn at least enough to make yourself understood."

"Yes, of course, Your Highness," Ingrid murmured and curtsied, still patting Karina.

Christian smiled a little. "Ingrid, tell me the truth," he said. "Are you afraid of me?"

Her mouth dropped open and she looked as if she'd walked into a trap. "Oh…Your Highness…" she mumbled, then turned brilliant crimson and looked away.

"Christian," Leslie broke in gently, "what're you embarrassing her for?"

"I'm not trying to," he said. "I just want to get to the root of her skittishness. She may be a servant, but respect and deference are one thing—outright fear is another." Leslie nodded understanding, and he switched back to _jordiska_. "Ingrid, how exactly were you chosen to come here to help care for the triplets?"

Ingrid bit her lip. "Princess Margareta asked for volunteers to accompany her to Fantasy Island. Only three of us came forward, and after Her Highness learned that I am the oldest of seven children and helped care for babies for many years, she said I would be the one to come. The other two were grateful. They were frightened to leave Lilla Jordsö."

Christian raised an eyebrow and then shook his head. "Typical," he mumbled in English, noting Leslie's surprised look. Briefly he summarized Ingrid's explanation, and she blinked and let out a resigned huff.

"You kept talking about provincials," she observed.

"I did?" Christian asked.

"Well, not necessarily you, but I think Rudolf said it once, and Margareta certainly didn't hesitate to use the word. It just seems strange in this day and age."

"It is," Christian said. "It's only that there are still a few pockets of poverty in the country, even in spite of the usual social safety net that Lilla Jordsö implemented around the same time that the other Scandinavian countries did. Most of the villages so affected are either clustered around the swampy terrain in the south, or strung along the eastern coast. Wait just a few minutes, my darling, and let me finish here." Leslie nodded again, returning her attention to Susanna, and Christian addressed Ingrid again. "Were you also frightened of leaving the country, then?"

"Perhaps a little, Your Highness," Ingrid admitted reluctantly. "But I wanted to leave."

"Why?" Christian asked.

"I had hoped to assist Princess Anna-Laura in caring for Princess Elisabeth," Ingrid said, glancing nervously at Christian from time to time. Karina burped and spit up, and she promptly lifted the infant away from her shoulder. "But I was assigned to clean instead. It seemed like salvation when Princess Margareta called for volunteers. I miss Lilla Jordsö, but it's wonderful to care for the babies, Your Highness, it truly is. They are all sweet babies and so little trouble, far less than my own brothers and sisters."

"You need not flatter me, or even my children," Christian told her humorously. "It's the rare baby who's perfect, and three at once? I don't believe it. I think you dare tell the truth. Aren't you fed up with the endless laundry the triplets create, and all the sheets you must change, and the housework that Leslie usually prefers to do but can't because she must care for the babies?"

"No, no, Your Highness, not at all," Ingrid insisted hastily.

Christian laughed, glancing at Tobias and noting that his son had begun to gnaw drowsily on the nipple of the bottle. Gently removing it, he said, "Ingrid, I told you you can tell me the truth. Nothing will happen to you if you do. We won't send you back to Lilla Jordsö in disgrace, and you won't be banished from castle employ, and there won't be any imperial repercussions. For fate's sake, even the dungeons in the castle haven't seen use for more than three centuries. Sending someone down there would be cruel and unusual punishment…and I myself should know." His hazel eyes clouded briefly as he patted Tobias' back, and he glanced at Leslie before looking back to Ingrid and smiling. "Three babies are a great deal of work, and they'll be far more work before they're old enough to begin to do for themselves. Wait until they aren't content to be merely fed and rocked and put to sleep. In another month or so they'll want more freedom and more stimulation."

"But it will be enjoyable," Ingrid said, stubbornly looking away, concentrating too hard on returning Karina to Leslie's arms. Leslie smiled at her again.

Christian sighed loudly. "Ingrid, stop dissembling," he said sternly. "The truth."

Put on the spot, Ingrid stared fearfully at him, her eyes huge and her body tense. "We all know that…when you are provoked…your temper…it's not difficult to make you angry, Your Highness. I would never dare do anything to enrage you."

Christian gaped at her, mouth hanging open, and finally said, "Are you saying I have some sort of reputation within the castle? Tell me, does every servant in the place operate under the belief that all he need do is look cross-eyed at me and I'll bring down a royal execution order upon him? _Herregud_, I thought I had a better rapport with the people than that! Whatever you may remember seeing, Ingrid, was purely the result of strained relations with King Arnulf, as well as all the actions he took in his ongoing attempts to control my life. Even then, I don't get angry with someone unless that person gives me good reason to do so, so do yourself and me a favor and relax!"

Ingrid was very red by now, but she looked slightly less terrified, and he smiled, trying to put her a little more at ease. After a moment she asked timidly, "Will you still help me to learn English, Your Highness?"

"Of course, Ingrid," Christian said, laughing quietly. "Of course. I won't have much time to give you substantial formal instruction, but you can listen more carefully to Leslie and me when we're speaking English, and you may pick up some words in that manner." At that point Tobias burped, spit up a little less than his sister had, and grunted, which made his parents and even Ingrid laugh.

Leslie, in the meantime, had burped Susanna, and was cradling her and Karina on the pillow with her knees raised slightly to help hold them in place while she removed the messy cloth from her shoulder. Ingrid reached out for it. _"Jag tar det, Ers Höghet,"_ she said, smiling tentatively at Leslie.

Leslie looked up, gleaning the meaning from the action, and said, _"Tack så mycket,_ Ingrid." She groped for something to add, but came up short and gave Christian a helpless look. "If you're going to teach her English, you may as well teach me _jordiska_," she said.

Christian shook his head and chuckled. "If I had known I was going to become a language teacher, I'd have studied that instead of those computer-repair and graphic-design courses," he said good-naturedly. "At any rate, I see no reason why not. It's all for a good cause anyhow, and I think there may be a young couple in the near future who will make good use of Ingrid's instruction."

The doorbell rang. "Oh great…it's Janine," Leslie groaned. "I'm not decent."

Christian gave Ingrid a quick order in _jordiska_ and she took Tobias from him long enough for him to help Leslie get her clothing back in place. "You're perfectly decent to me, my Rose, but then you knew that," he teased, laughing at the face she made. He stood up, took Tobias back from Ingrid and went to the door while Ingrid lifted Susanna from Leslie's lap, allowing Leslie to stand up with Karina on her shoulder.

Christian let Janine in, and to all their surprise she said brightly, _"Hallå då!"_

"Hello, Janine," Christian replied, distracted by Tobias, who had started to fuss and whimper. "You've started learning _jordiska_, have you, then?"

"Yeah, it's kinda fun!" Janine said cheerfully. "It's not as hard as I thought it'd be. I just wish they taught it in school here."

"Not much use for it outside its homeland," Christian said dismissively. "Uh, the list is there on the table beside the keys. If you'd excuse me…" He turned aside, rubbing a fretting Tobias' back. "It's time to get these imps to bed," he told Leslie.

"They're on their way right now," she said, grinning. "Just waiting for you, that's all. Thanks again, Janine." Christian and Leslie headed for the stairs with Ingrid behind them, and each laid an infant down in a crib a few minutes later. Ingrid left the room then, but Leslie and Christian lingered, for Tobias was unusually worked up this time around.

"I wonder if he still has gas in his stomach," Christian murmured, lifting his son out of the crib and resting him against his shoulder once more.

Leslie straightened with sudden alarm. "Oh no…I forgot something, and I need to tell Janine about it before she leaves," she exclaimed. "Be right back, my love." Christian nodded, and she rushed out of the room and down the stairs, wishing she'd had the chance to change into fresh clothes. A shower would have been better, but she supposed that was becoming almost a luxury lately. She had the disconcerting, though thankfully only occasional, problem of leaking milk, and for that reason had become leery of leaving the house.

Janine was standing in the kitchen doorway and looked up, her eyes wide, when Leslie stopped in the foyer. "Thank goodness I caught you," Leslie said. "Could I have the list for a bit? I need to add a couple of things to it."

"Sure, Mrs. Enstad," Janine said and gave her the list, then sidestepped into the foyer while Leslie scribbled a couple of items on the bottom of the sheet.

"Thank fate," Leslie murmured and chuckled, handing the list back. "I've been picking up Christian's expressions lately, it seems. Okay, go ahead."

"Right," said Janine. "See you later." She left a little quickly, and Leslie stared after her for a moment, wondering at the girl's oddly abrupt manner. _Probably some teenage concern,_ she thought with a shrug, then retreated upstairs.

She stopped in the doorway of the triplets' room and stared again, this time in sheer amazement and fascination, when she saw Christian inside, standing at the window with Tobias over his shoulder, singing something quietly in _jordiska_. She'd never had the opportunity to catch her husband soothing one of his children till now, and she wondered what he was singing to the baby. She listened curiously. _"…här är jag, lillan min…sova lugnt, sova gott…här står jag, bre'vid dej…lillan min, for dej blott…"_

Leslie ventured slowly across the room, stopping halfway, unable to resist listening to Christian's soft voice. The words were slow and gentle, sung almost in a monotone, and they were definitely having an effect on the baby. Tobias had already quieted and was lying silently against his father's shoulder, eyes half open, blinking slowly now and then as if he too were listening. As Christian sang, he pivoted gently back and forth from the waist up, his gaze trained on something outside the window. Perhaps another minute, and maybe three more renditions of the verses Leslie had heard, passed, and then she saw Tobias' eyes close and stay that way. Christian, unaware, went on rocking and singing softly.

Leslie finished crossing the room and gently lifted Tobias from Christian's shoulder, interrupting her husband in the middle of his lullaby. "Is he asleep, then?" Christian murmured, looking down at Tobias.

"Yes, he drifted off just a couple minutes ago, but I hated to stop you," Leslie replied, settling Tobias in his crib and then looking at Christian with wonder. "I never heard you sing to the babies before."

Christian shrugged, looking a bit sheepish. "It was something Kristina and Amalia and Anna-Laura used to sing to their children as infants," he said, his gaze straying out the window again. "Perhaps…"

There was something so wistful in his voice that Leslie wanted to cradle him and sing to him just as he had to Tobias. "What is it, my love?"

"Perhaps Mother sang it to me too," Christian said, very softly. "I'd at least like to think she did, even if she did leave my care mostly to a nanny for my first few months."

"Did she?" Leslie asked gently, slipping her arms around him.

Christian hugged her back. "So I was told. She said something to me about regretting that, just before she died. I thought about that the next day, and I remember vowing to myself then that if I ever became a father, I would participate in the care of my children to the fullest possible extent."

Leslie kissed his cheek. "You're doing a wonderful job, my darling. I stood a while and watched you, and listened to you singing. That lullaby was perfect, just the right tone and inflection to calm Tobias down."

Christian suddenly grinned and admitted, "To be honest, that lullaby isn't meant to be sung in a monotone. I sing well enough with my favorite rock songs, but relegate me to an _a cappella_ performance and I fail miserably. It has a tune, which I can't seem to render."

Leslie giggled softly, hugged him tightly and closed her eyes. "It doesn't matter, my love. Just your singing was enough. If you only knew what it did to me, watching you do that. I married the most amazing man in the world." She felt Christian hug her securely back, and they stood silently that way for a time, giving each other a little extra love while their children slept.


	6. Chapter 6

§ § § -- June 29, 2004

Janine fumed aloud all the way to town. "They did it again! How come I can't seem to get there when it's just Christian all by himself? Wonder if maybe he'd notice if I came around wearing a spandex tank and bike shorts? What do I have to do?" It really burned her that he hadn't seemed to notice how well she'd pronounced her greeting to him, nor had he asked her to demonstrate more of her carefully memorized phrases in his tongue. How drastic was she going to have to be? She talked to herself energetically till she reached the outskirts of town, then continued her ruminating in her head while she pushed a cart around the store, almost absently picking out the things on the list. She kept scanning it, hoping to see something on it such as "wart remover" or "acne treatment", but nothing of the sort was there. Christian's wife might not be pretty enough for him, but she didn't seem to have many physical flaws. Janine sourly supposed she never had bad-hair days or body odor, even when she was wearing clothes with baby spit-up all over them.

Didn't he ever miss his bachelor days? Did he ever think about how good he'd had it when it was just him and he could do anything he wanted, any_time_ he wanted? Did he wish he'd never had children, never met that woman and married her? Did he resent her for making him move away from his homeland? Janine wondered all this and more as she went on with the shopping, and then suddenly had a wild idea.

She paid for the items, loaded the bags into the car and then ran across the square to the All-Natural shop. There was a bored cashier standing behind the one open register, and she pounded to a halt in front of the counter and asked breathlessly, "Do you carry cherry seltzer here?"

"What's cherry seltzer?" asked the clerk, staring at her. Janine realized then that the boy was around her own age, and she thought she might have seen him in school, but she wasn't sure. She hadn't bothered trying to make friends.

"It's a kind of soda," Janine said. "It's from Lilla Jordsö, and it's made with cherry juice, soda water, juice from some Scandinavian berry, and just a little bit of sugar. It'd fit right in with the stuff you sell here—all natural ingredients, nothing fake or gross. You ought to make a deal with some company there and import it."

The boy shook his head in disbelief. "I wouldn't know about that. I don't decide what they sell here. If you're really serious, you could ask the store manager, but probably he wouldn't be interested anyway."

Janine stared at him and then rolled her eyes. "Well, thanks a lot for your non-help." She tossed her hair and stalked out, wondering what she could do next. It was too bad they wouldn't sell that soda here. It sounded delicious, especially right now in the thick of a tropical summer. Then she had another idea and grinned broadly. This would get Christian's attention, guaranteed. She would just have to do it in stages, so it wasn't too obvious.

§ § § -- July 3, 2004

"Well, look at these three…a month old and just gorgeous!" Dr. Hannaford exclaimed, beaming at the triplets. Christian held Karina in his lap, Leslie held Susanna, and Roarke, who had come with them, held Tobias, all in sitting positions where the babies could see what was happening. They were waiting for Dr. Gwen Corbett, the island's pediatrician, to come out of her office. "How does it feel to be a grandfather, Mr. Roarke?"

"Exciting," Roarke remarked and grinned. "It's not a sensation I had ever expected to encounter, and I am truly enjoying it. Perhaps these children's possessive parents will even allow me to watch them briefly one day, when they're slightly older and Christian and Leslie feel as if they can bear the idea of leaving their children for a short time."

"You're going to regret making that wish," Leslie said with a grin, and they all laughed good-naturedly. "They still seem so tiny…I wonder when we're going to really notice them getting bigger."

"You will," Dr. Hannaford assured them, "the moment they outgrow some of those little sleepers you got at your baby shower. As long as they're gaining weight, they're in fine health. Any questions, Gwen'll be glad to answer—she's very good with this stuff."

The doctor in question came out just then with someone quite familiar to Christian and Leslie—Janine Polidari, along with her mother, Andrea. They all stopped, and Andrea and Dr. Corbett greeted the Enstads and Roarke while Janine stared helplessly and fixedly at Christian. Some conversation went on, prolonging the encounter, so that eventually Roarke noticed Janine's gaze stuck on Christian. Christian himself never saw a thing; but Roarke, reminded for some reason of Margareta's earlier concerns over Janine's attitude towards her uncle, attributed this to the fact that Christian—as a well-known personage throughout his life—was used to being gaped at by admirers and had long since learned not to see it. He regarded Janine's eyes on Christian, considered what he had heard, and came to a quick decision.

"Well, we've got to go," said Andrea presently. "We're undoubtedly holding up Dr. Corbett's whole schedule. Come on, Janine, let's go home."

"Hi, Mr. Enstad," Janine said then, and Christian glanced up, smiling distractedly and nodding back. Andrea took Janine's arm and pulled her along, while Janine kept shooting Christian glances over her shoulder and an oblivious Christian abruptly found himself dealing with his daughter's newly soiled diaper. Roarke noted all this; it merely confirmed to him that a talk with his daughter and son-in-law was in order.

"Well," Christian was saying helplessly, "there goes that outfit…"

"Lift her up, my love, and let's get a look," Leslie suggested. She grinned at Dr. Corbett. "Our next appointment after this one was to go to the photographer's studio in town and finally get the first official family portrait done, so that Christian could get the website for his family updated. If Karina's done what her father seems to think she has…"

"I have extra diapers for emergencies like this," Dr. Corbett said cheerfully. "I've been doing this for many years, and I've seen practically everything." She was a gray-haired lady somewhere around 60, Leslie estimated, and had probably raised her own children as well.

"That would be a lifesaver," Christian observed and hoisted Karina into the air for a moment, long enough to check his slacks. "If only it were so simple for me." They all laughed, and he arose along with Roarke and Leslie, each still holding a triplet. Dr. Corbett led them back to her office, which sported several bulletin boards crammed with photographs of babies and children. There, she gave Leslie a diaper, allowing her to change Karina swiftly and get the examinations under way. Christian, meantime, gave Leslie a sheepish look and ducked out to the men's room.

When Dr. Corbett walked out to get something, Roarke cleared his throat and said, "Leslie, perhaps if you and Christian can find a moment or two during the day, we should have a little talk."

Surprised, Leslie stared at him. "Sure, Father…but what about? Are we doing something wrong caring for the triplets?"

Roarke chuckled. "No, nothing of the sort—I didn't mean to make you think it was quite that dire," he said. "No, it's something else entirely, and I have enough concern about it that I thought it wise to bring it up to you and Christian. I realize you both have a full schedule today, between this appointment and then the one for the family portrait, so when you're free, just call my office."

"Sure," Leslie said again. "Incidentally, I've been meaning to ask. How're you getting along without me? Have I missed any really good fantasies?"

"I've tried to schedule boring fantasies simply to keep you from thinking you're being cheated of interesting experiences," Roarke said dryly, and she rolled her eyes, making him grin. "I explained to you before the triplets' births that I am deliberately keeping things light this summer, as you would necessarily be on leave to care for them. Most of the fantasies are routine requests—riches, fame, other mundanities."

Leslie grinned and teased back, "Oh, I see…the usual yawn-inducing stuff." They both laughed, their attention snagged by the sudden kicking of Susanna. "Hey, little girl, where'd all this sudden energy come from, huh?" Leslie lifted Susanna from the little bassinet where she was awaiting her turn to be examined and laid the baby against her shoulder.

Christian returned then, looking disgruntled. "Well, that was a spectacular failure. I suppose I'll have to grin and bear it until we get home and I can change clothes. It's very much fate's caprice that the first time one of the babies manages to ruin my clothes, it's the one time since their birth that I was wearing good pants."

Roarke and Leslie both laughed, and Leslie met Christian in the middle of the room to kiss him. "Cheer up, my love, pants are always replaceable. And besides, we'll be sitting down in the portrait, so nobody'll ever know what Karina did."

Christian regarded her dubiously and remarked, "Only if everyone we meet has no sense of smell." Again Roarke and Leslie chuckled, and he grinned reluctantly and took the last remaining chair. "Something wrong with Susanna?"

"She just seemed restless," Leslie said. "Uh, by the way, Father asked if he could have a little of our time to talk about something with us. I told him we'll call later."

"Oh?" Christian said, looking curiously at Roarke. "Anything urgent?"

"Not especially," Roarke said, "but I did think this should be brought to your attention. As I told Leslie, don't feel that it's a dire situation. I realize you two have a busy day planned. If you find it necessary to put it off, tomorrow will be soon enough."

§ § § -- July 4, 2004

Firecrackers in the near distance brought Christian and Leslie awake at what proved to be some decidedly ungodly hour, and Leslie groaned plaintively. "Why is there always some bozo who has to celebrate the Fourth of July at the earliest possible hour?"

"For the same reason some social drunks decide to get a head start on their holiday imbibing at six in the morning on New Year's Eve," Christian grumbled sleepily, rolling over to face her and sighing. "I hope it doesn't bother the triplets."

"It won't matter if it does," Leslie muttered. "I can feel it…they're due for a feeding soon, and frankly it'll be a relief. I'm leaking and I hurt."

"You haven't in some time," Christian noted, lifting his head with concern. "Are you feeling all right otherwise?"

"Yep, I'm okay, just awake at too early an hour," Leslie said.

Christian made a noise of assent and looked at the clock. "It's almost five-thirty in any case," he noted. "I may as well go and awaken Ingrid and have her prepare the formula. Which triplet has the next bottle?"

"Karina," Leslie said. Christian nodded and swung out of bed, then started at another round of firecrackers and muttered something unpalatable in _jordiska_. Leslie giggled halfheartedly and watched him round the bed.

"What'd that mean?" she asked playfully.

Christian gave her a reproachful look and shook his finger at her. "Oh no you don't," he mock-scolded. "No curse words until you can say your first complex sentence in _jordiska."_ Leslie made a face at him and he grinned. "Be back shortly."

When he returned, Ingrid was behind him, and to Leslie's astonishment she spoke her first actual sentence in English: "Good morning, Your Highness."

"Good morning, Ingrid," Leslie said, blinking and grinning. "Very good!" Ingrid's smile seemed more grateful than the praise warranted, and Leslie watched the servant vanish around the wall to head downstairs. Then she looked at Christian and complained, "I wish she wouldn't call me 'Your Highness'!"

Christian laughed softly, leaned down and kissed her. "There's your first assignment, then," he teased. "Come up with the _jordiska_ for that and then ask her." Leslie made another face and he laughed again, looking cheerful. "Don't forget, you wanted to learn. Well, since we're very much awake, we may as well face the day."

Five hours later the doorbell sounded off. By that time no one was in a cheerful mood anymore, even Ingrid, who had just discovered they were low on formula. Leslie, seeing her communicate this mostly through sign language, groaned. "Terrific," she muttered, "and the next feeding, Tobias gets the bottle. He'll be a bear if we don't have enough. Christian?"

"Yes?" she heard him call faintly. He had been upstairs working on the royal family's website while she and Ingrid had been inventorying groceries in preparation of the day's list for Janine.

"Come down here and help us, won't you?" Leslie called, going to the door and admitting Janine. "Hi there, we'll get you going in just a minute. Christian!"

"I'm coming!" she heard him shout from above, and then she heard the wail of one of the triplets. She groaned again and cast a _help me_ look at Ingrid, who smiled sympathetically and hurried out of the room and toward the stairs.

"What a day this has been," she grunted, partly to herself. "Sorry, Janine, I don't mean to be antisocial…but the triplets have been fractious all day long, and it's not even lunchtime yet. And there are five loads of laundry to be done, not enough formula or laundry detergent, a longer list than usual…and I want to sleep till November." Janine stared at her and blinked, then grinned a little tentatively, and Leslie had to smile back.

Christian came down a minute later with Tobias on one shoulder, howling, and Karina on the other, not quite at her brother's level but definitely working up to it. "Oh, it's you," he said to Janine. "Listen, if you can get back here with more formula before an hour has passed, there'll be an extra ten dollars in it for you. Leslie—are you absolutely convinced we don't have any more? Ingrid just gave me the bad news."

"I looked three times myself," Leslie said a little impatiently, raking a hand through her hair. "Where's Susanna?"

"You know I can't carry three babies at once!" Christian exclaimed in annoyance. "I was fortunate to be able to lift two! Why don't you take one of them while you're standing here?" Leslie visibly bit back a retort and lifted Tobias off his shoulder, rocking her son and murmuring to him. Christian turned his back on her, gathering the list and the car keys for Janine, but Leslie stopped him.

"I'm not done with that yet," she protested.

"Oh, very well," Christian snapped, dropping keys and list back on the table. "Just for your information, Ingrid will be down with Susanna, since I wasn't able to grow a third arm in time enough to satisfy you." He carried Karina out of the kitchen, and Leslie stared after him for a moment, then closed her eyes briefly and swallowed before turning to Janine. The girl's eyes were wide with amazement.

"Sorry, Janine," Leslie murmured. "As I said, it's been a bad day." She cleared her throat and shifted Tobias from her right shoulder to her left so that she could add a few last items to the list. Ingrid came in with Susanna, the baby bawling and the servant looking a little frightened. Finally Leslie finished writing, gave Janine the list and keys, and sent her off with a sense of relief.

"Who…" Ingrid began, hesitated, then tried again. "Who…" She gave up and asked apologetically in _jordiska, "Vem har babyflaskan nu, Ers Höghet?"_

Leslie tried to process this as quickly as possible. "Baby" was easy, and she thought the other part of that compound word had been "flask", which carried a similar meaning in English. She must have asked who was on the bottle this time. A bit relieved, Leslie said, "Tobias." While she had Ingrid's attention, she advised with a few quick gestures that she wanted to trade babies, since she had both girls for this next feeding, and the switch was deftly accomplished. Leslie glanced nervously at the depleted can of formula, hoping there might be enough to satisfy Tobias and doubting it, then took Susanna into the living room.

Christian was pacing the floor with a wailing Karina, trying to soothe the infant without success. As soon as Leslie sat down and prepared to put Susanna to the breast, he turned to her and wordlessly settled Karina into Leslie's lap beside her sister. About to thank him, Leslie found herself watching him turn abruptly away and escape upstairs. Her mouth dropped open, and a half-formed question about his feeding Tobias died before she could finish putting it together. "Dammit," she mumbled to herself and concentrated on getting Susanna and Karina's feeding under way. Their crying instantly stopped, leaving poor Tobias as the one remaining siren. She could hear Ingrid singing to him in her own tongue and found herself battling back tears of her own.

‡ ‡ ‡

"Wow," Janine muttered to herself, piloting the Enstads' car down the access road and shaking her head. "Three screaming little brats, a frazzled wife…man, no wonder he was mad. I'd be mad too. I bet he really wishes he was back in the palace in Lilla Jordsö right this minute, being a bachelor prince." She smiled faintly to herself, her plans resolved. On her way from the store, she would pick up the item she had prepared the night before while Denise was with friends and her mother had been on a date, and bring it back with her to the Enstad house. "He deserves something better than all that," she told herself, and drove on, feeling proud and anticipatory.

Remembering Christian's words about there being extra money if she could get the groceries back within an hour, she all but ran through the store with her cart, cursorily checking labels as she tossed things inside, and picking up three cans of the formula they used instead of the two that she usually got. She kept checking her watch, wondering if she was going to make it; she was determined to stop at home and get her surprise for Christian, but she didn't want to lose that ten dollars.

Fortunately, she made it with about five minutes to spare, and left the car full of bags just to make it clear that she'd beaten the deadline. To her delight, it was Christian who answered her summons; the house was quiet, and he looked strained, but managed to smile at her. "Wonderful," he said in obvious relief. "Here, let me help."

"Sure was nuts this morning," Janine ventured.

"Mmm," Christian murmured, as if unwilling to talk about it. As though to himself, he muttered, "And we forgot to call Mr. Roarke as well…_ödets infall att allt hender som så…"_ He shook his head and turned inward, and Janine bit her lip, still hopeful.

Inside the house, with the bags on the kitchen table (_that looks messier every time I come over here, _Janine thought in awe), she opened one more grocery bag and lifted out a covered baking pan. "I thought maybe you'd like this, Mr. Enstad," she offered, holding it out to him. "I know you kinda missed some stuff from home and all…"

Christian gave her an unreadable look, slowly accepted the pan and peered under the aluminum foil she had used as a cover. His hazel eyes went very wide then and he looked at her in disbelief. "You didn't," he said.

Janine nodded proudly. "I found a recipe online," she said. "I thought they'd be hard to make, but they really weren't. I ate one myself. Man, they're really rich!"

"_Jordsklockor,"_ Christian said, staring into the pan again. "Well, I have to admit, they'll certainly be a welcome end for a meal. But you really didn't have to do this."

"I wanted to," Janine said and beamed. "I can see how anybody could get hooked on them. Good thing I'm not on a diet." She giggled, delighted at his flabbergasted reaction.

"Yes, well…it's true, they certainly are rich," Christian agreed, setting the pan on the counter. "Well, I thank you for the effort, although I wish you wouldn't put yourself out."

"It's no trouble at all," Janine said eagerly. "I'm on summer vacation, and I have just this job getting your groceries, and I've got nothing else to do really. I have tons of free time. I thought it'd be fun trying out some Jordsonian food." She paused. "Can you say that? 'Jordsonian', I mean? It just sounds so awkward in English…"

For the first time he laughed. "It does sound awkward," he admitted, "and if you think so, imagine how it sounds to me." Janine giggled at that. "But," he went on, "it's perfectly acceptable. Look, the next time you come over, I'll give you back the pan…and in the meantime, here." He dug out his wallet and handed her thirty-five dollars. "I'm impressed that you made that trip so quickly, especially since Leslie added some things to the list."

"I hope the last baby got fed okay," Janine offered.

"Yes, we managed," Christian said and smiled. "Thank you again, Janine. You really have been a lot of help to us." Janine beamed again.

"Are you doing anything with the triplets for the Fourth of July?" she asked.

Christian looked a little perplexed. "The Fourth of…? Oh, that's right, the American Independence Day. We heard firecrackers early this morning, but I had forgotten what with all the frenzy around here. No, I don't expect we're doing anything. Perhaps taking the triplets to the main house for a time, but that's all, I believe. I hope you have some plans—I understand you're not native to this island."

"Oh no, I'm from Boston, Massachusetts," Janine announced proudly. For some reason he grinned broadly. "We have the best fireworks display in the country on the Fourth, you know. The Pops play in the half-shell at the Esplanade, and they set off fireworks for half an hour—big huge ones, you can see 'em for miles around, and they look so pretty reflecting off the Charles—and it gets shown on national TV too. We're famous for our Fourth-of-July celebrations. I always used to go with my family…before we moved here, I mean…" She bit her lip, and a strong surge of homesickness washed over her. "I really miss it."

"Yes, I can see that," Christian remarked. "Perhaps you'll have the chance to watch it on television, despite the time difference. But I do know that Mr. Roarke arranges a fireworks display for the American guests, and I've seen it…it's impressive, especially since he isn't at all obligated to cater to them to such an extent. You might like to see that."

"Oh, maybe," Janine said without enthusiasm. Talking about Boston's celebrations had dampened her mood. "Anyway, I hope you like the pastries. Thanks."

"Thank you, and have a good day," Christian offered, letting her out. Slowly Janine crossed over to her bike and climbed on, thinking wistfully of the planned party in the city and wondering abruptly if she had enough money for a last-minute flight home. Probably not, she figured. Wishing she had suggested to Christian that he too watch the broadcast, she slowly pedaled home, not caring that it took her more than two hours to get there.


	7. Chapter 7

§ § § -- July 4, 2004

Christian blew out a long breath when Janine was gone and sagged against the wall beside the door. It had been a very trying day so far, and he wondered uneasily what was going to happen next. There hadn't been enough formula left in the last can to fill poor little Tobias, and Christian had been forced to try everything he could think of to calm the baby down, all to no avail. When Karina, who nearly always finished feeding first, had released her mother's breast for her usual "I'm done, put me to bed" yawn, Leslie had looked up then and said quietly, "Bring Tobias here and let's see if I have enough milk left to fill him up." He had carried the irritable little boy over to her, and without speaking Leslie had let their son latch onto her, leaving Christian to take Karina off to her crib. Since then he'd been afraid to go back downstairs, and had instead closeted himself in the library, tinkering halfheartedly with his family's website but unable to muster up his usual enthusiasm.

When he'd gone down to let Janine in, the living room had been empty. Now he wondered where Leslie was; he'd have thought she'd go to sleep, but no one had been in their bed, either. With Susanna, Karina and Tobias all sated and asleep, he found the quiet in the house to be unnerving, and this drove him back upstairs to start looking for Leslie.

He found her finally in the first-floor guest suite where Margareta had stayed. Ingrid had moved to the empty bedroom next to the triplets' room so that she could help more readily if something came up at night. Leslie sat on the floor at the end of the bed, her back resting against the bed itself, surrounded by the scrapbooks her mother had left her and the ones his sister and nieces had made up for him. She had drawn up her knees and was hugging them, and her forehead rested atop them.

Quietly Christian shifted aside a couple of the scrapbooks and lowered himself to the floor beside her. "Are you all right?" he asked gently.

Leslie slowly lifted her head and stared at him, and he was stunned to see how red her face was, how puffy her eyes were, from what must have been prolonged crying. "Does it matter to you?" she said flatly, shocking him.

"Fate take me, Leslie," Christian said, aghast, "everything about you matters to me. I love you. I'll always love you, don't you know that? Do I have to convince you anew every time we have a fight?"

He saw tears fill her eyes again and sighed softly; she winced and turned away, dropping her head atop her knees again. "I have such a big mouth," he heard her muffled voice groan in despair from behind the curtain of hair that had fallen forward. "I'm sorry, Christian, I really am…"

Christian wrapped an arm around her and rested his head against hers. "My darling, we've both had a trying day. It started badly and got worse. I suppose it was inevitable that we would snap at each other from frustration. I have some apologizing of my own to do—I shouldn't have made that wisecrack about not growing a third arm."

"I shouldn't have gotten impatient with you," Leslie murmured, lifting her head again. "You're right, it's been such an awful day. It seemed like we were really coasting that whole first month since the triplets came. Everything was so smooth. The babies almost seemed to know that we were a little nervous about all the work we have to do to take care of them, and they hardly ever fussed, and we all got used to each other. And then…"

Christian chuckled soundlessly and picked up the narrative. "And then we took them to Anna-Kristina's birthday party on Thursday, and the unusual fuss and noise bothered them, and they missed a feeding…and worse than that, Natalia's natural curiosity about them was more than they could stand."

"Too much poking and prodding," Leslie mumbled. "Maybe they seemed like live dolls to her."

"Quite possible," said Christian soothingly, huddling her close. "And then they had the doctor's appointment and the portrait yesterday, of course, and today the formula ran out…little wonder things have suddenly seemed to go upside down."

"And we forgot to call Father, too," Leslie mumbled.

"Yes, I remembered that myself a little while ago," Christian said, gently tucking her hair behind her ear so he could see her face. "Perhaps we should do that, and take the babies to the main house with us, and let Ingrid have a little time for herself. Oh yes…and Janine left us some homemade _jordsklockor_…for whatever reason."

Leslie blinked at him and wiped aside a tear that started to slide from her eye. "She baked us more stuff?"

"Seems so," Christian said, amused. "Fate knows why, but she did. Anyhow, why don't we give ourselves a chance to settle down just a bit, and then call Mr. Roarke, and when the babies have had their next feeding, we'll go to the main house? I think we need to get out." He saw her expression and grinned. "I know we got out the last two days. I meant to a calmer environment this time."

Leslie grinned back finally, and he hugged her close. "I think that's just what we need," she agreed, tucking her head against his neck and relaxing. "I'm really sorry, my love, believe me. It's been a harrowing few days, but I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

"I expect we'll have more of that in the months ahead," Christian said, "but we'll just do our best to take them in stride. I'm sorry too, my darling. I suppose it's a wonder we didn't completely explode at each other."

"I think we were restraining ourselves because of the triplets—they were already worked up, and they'd have been even more inconsolable—and because Janine was there." Leslie sighed and lifted her head to smile at him. "Just so long as we don't let it push us apart, that's all. I love you so much, Christian."

"I love you too, my Rose, for all my days," he promised quietly and kissed her. For the first time since a few weeks before the triplets' birth, Christian felt her responding with the passion that had always raised his own response to greater heights, that had made lovemaking with her so much more than it had been with anyone else.

She noticed it too and pulled back after a moment. "Oh wow," she whispered. "It's coming back after all. I was afraid it wouldn't…I talked to Dr. Hannaford about it the last time I saw her before the triplets were born. She told me to be patient and give it time, because with most new mothers it takes a few weeks, and some even longer."

"I see," Christian said, smiling. "You're feeling better, then?"

Leslie nodded. "There's no pain…and I've missed making love with you. Of course," she added with a wry smile, "we'll have to sneak it in while the triplets are asleep or something…" They laughed softly and hugged each other again. "But thinking of making love with you is getting me excited about it. Maybe we can't indulge in long sessions like we used to, but it's going to feel so good with you again. You've been so patient, too."

Christian grinned. "I've had a tremendous amount of practice being patient," he told her, laughing. "My sex life was all but nonexistent till I dated Karin Grimsby, but since I wasn't in love with her, I had no problem going celibate again until I met you and learned what true lovemaking is. I simply kept reminding myself that it would be worth the wait." He kissed her and then got to his feet, pulling her onto hers. "So tell me about the scrapbooks. Did you find yourself nostalgic?"

"Sort of," Leslie said, standing in his embrace and gazing at the books on the floor. "I wondered what Mom had recorded about my development as a baby, and I wondered what you looked like in your first few years…and I got so lonely for you. We'll have to start putting together scrapbooks for the babies."

Christian raised an eyebrow. "Scrapbooks, plural? As in, one for each triplet?"

"Of course," she said and grinned. "I mean, really, who wants to share their scrapbook with a sibling?" Christian began to laugh, and Leslie hugged him. "Well, come on, let's put these back where they belong and then give Father a call."

§ § § -- July 5, 2004

Roarke admired his grandchildren as they slept, and after the three adults had exchanged a few good-natured jokes about how children were most adorable when they were sleeping, he gestured at the chairs in front of his desk while Christian and Leslie set the three infant carriers on the floor between them. "Please, sit down, both of you," he said. "I am very sorry there was no chance for us to discuss this yesterday."

"Perhaps it's as well," Christian remarked. "We ourselves had a rather hectic and emotional day yesterday. So, what's troubling you?"

Roarke settled into his chair and cleared his throat, then regarded his daughter and son-in-law curiously. "How have you two been getting along, with the assistance you've been receiving since the triplets were born?"

"Quite well," Christian said. "Margareta gave up and went home, of course, but as it happens, Ingrid—the servant she left behind—has been invaluable to us. She handles all the cooking and housework, and is the perfect third arm we need whenever we have to carry all three babies around at once. And we hired a teenager to handle our grocery shopping…"

"Yes," Roarke mused, drawing the word out, thus alerting Leslie, who sat up a little. "Janine Polidari, I believe—the niece of your friend Camille, am I correct, Leslie?"

Leslie nodded. "Yes, that's right. She's been a great help. She's actually developed an interest in Lilla Jordsö…evidently trying to learn some of the language…and she baked some _jordsklocka_ pastries and brought them over, just yesterday. My gosh, she even gave us a cake for Christian's birthday."

Roarke stared at her and said, "Did she indeed!"

His tone made Christian and Leslie look at each other before Leslie turned back to him and asked, "Is there something wrong, Father?"

Roarke sat back and considered for a few seconds before replying. "There may be," he said at last. "It may interest you to know, Christian, that just before Princess Margareta returned to Lilla Jordsö, she spoke with me about a matter that had been bothering her—specifically, to be blunt, she told me that she believed young Janine has a crush on you."

Christian chuckled and shook his head. "I find that hard to believe," he said.

But Leslie wasn't laughing; she was staring at Roarke. "Oh no," she said softly. "That's the last thing we need! Maybe I could dismiss the words in _jordiska_ and even the pastries…but she bought Christian a birthday cake!" She leaned forward, without noticing that Christian's laughter had ceased, and asked, "How did Margareta come up with that?"

"From what I could gather, it was purely through observation, and only one or two instances of it," Roarke said, and summarized his discussion with Margareta. By the time he finished, both Christian and Leslie were gaping at him. "It seems the princess takes note of even the smallest things; I was somewhat surprised to find that she had reached such a conclusion from what little she saw. However, your mention of the things Janine has been doing in relation to Christian and his heritage seems to tie in with Margareta's concerns. I believe, Christian, that you are the object of a very strong teenage crush."

Christian sighed heavily and said, "Magga has always had a way of noticing things, especially things she shouldn't. She seems to have radar ears sometimes, and she keeps a sharp eye on everything around her. Of Arnulf's three daughters, she was the only one who never questioned the reasons her father threw me into marriage with Marina, because she understood from the outset what was going on. When Anna-Kristina and Briella wondered why I was in that mess, she didn't. I remember having to tell them precisely why I wasn't allowed at the time to make my own life with Leslie; Magga simply knew. When she was a child, Arnulf and Kristina both used to complain at times that she often knew things she wasn't supposed to." He sighed again and looked at Roarke. "What on earth would make a sixteen-year-old develop such feelings for me?"

"As I told Margareta," Roarke said, "a girl may develop a crush on a celebrity figure as a way of avoiding undesirable aspects of her real life. This may be the case with Janine. She hasn't lived here very long, perhaps a year or so, and may not have adjusted."

Christian frowned slightly. "Come to think of it, yesterday when she presented me with those _jordsklockorna_, I asked her purely conversationally if she had any plans for the Fourth of July holiday. She positively gushed about the celebrations in Boston, speaking of it as someone who held it very dear to her heart and desperately missed it. It rather amused me to hear how much pride she had in being from Boston, probably because I had some of my own pride in being _jordisk."_ He looked at Leslie. "I wanted to ask you what the Pops and the 'half-shell' and the Esplanade and the Charles were, but I never remembered to do that after I sent her home and recalled our argument from earlier."

Leslie laughed. "Lucky for you I know what all that is, even though I'm actually from Connecticut. The Boston Pops orchestra is well-known around the country for their Fourth of July and Christmas concerts, and in the former celebrations, they play on an acoustically-designed open-air stage called the half-shell because of its shape. It sits on the banks of the Charles River in Cambridge, on a strip of land called the Esplanade. Mom always wanted to take the twins and me to see one of the Fourth concerts in person, but Michael would've had massive fits, so we never went. But I remember seeing them and the Christmas concerts on TV. I can understand Janine's nostalgia for them." She frowned thoughtfully and looked at Roarke. "Now that I think about it, I remember Camille mentioning a few times that Janine still hasn't really resigned herself to her new life here. She said Janine's incredibly homesick and really resents Andrea for uprooting her and her sister and bringing them here after Andrea's divorce."

"As I suspected," said Roarke. "She's lonely and homesick, misses her friends and her old life, and undoubtedly closed herself off from her classmates this past school year—thus the development of her crush on Christian."

"Should we do anything about it, Father?" Leslie asked.

Roarke smiled a little and assured her, "I daresay her crush is harmless enough. I'll admit that it seems she's trying overtly to gain your attention, Christian, and perhaps your approval. But it appears that her overtures thus far—baking pastries, learning a few words of your language, bringing you a birthday cake—have been merely signs of her admiration for you, and perhaps a determination to become somehow important to you for reasons other than merely being your temporary employee."

"Besides," Leslie teased her disconcerted husband, "she has good taste. Obviously she latched onto you because she was bowled over by how gorgeous you are."

"Oh, for fate's sake," Christian muttered, and Roarke and Leslie both laughed. "I expect I've been the object of countless teenage crushes in my day, in Lilla Jordsö. For that matter, I was actually receiving letters from girls in my teenage years, especially after Carl Johan and Amalia were married and he was officially 'off the market', if I remember the phrase correctly. But nothing ever came close to this. Perhaps these seemingly bold overtures have to do with Janine being from a country where there's no monarchy but a great fascination with celebrity. In Lilla Jordsö, as a prince, there was…dare I put it this way…too much awe, I suppose. Too wide a social gap."

Roarke nodded. "Yes, making you unreachable to your people, who set royalty apart from other celebrities such as actors and singers. At any rate, I don't wish to alarm either of you, but I do think it wise that you know."

"How'd you find out?" Leslie asked curiously.

"It happened last week when you two brought the triplets in for their appointment with Dr. Corbett, and Janine and her mother came out with the doctor. You didn't notice, of course, Christian, but Janine never took her eyes off you. That put me in mind of my conversation with Princess Margareta, and I began to rethink my original stance on the matter." Roarke glanced back and forth between them for a moment, then said, "I don't think you need worry about it, unless the young lady does something to overstep the bounds. You may then have to decide whether to try to clarify things for her, release her from the job you hired her for, or some other solution."

Christian and Leslie looked at each other again and both nodded slowly. "I hope it doesn't come down to that," Christian said. "She seems like a nice girl." He noticed Leslie's scrutiny and grinned. "Don't fear, my Rose. If it does in fact come down to it, I'll make it clear to her that I'm thirty years older than she is, and that I'm extremely happily married, no matter what she saw yesterday morning."

Leslie laughed, reaching out to squeeze his hand. "Well, I wasn't worried that she was going to run off with you. I just wonder what'll happen if you ever do have to set her straight. Camille mentioned once that she's a typical sullen teenager right about now, still smarting over her parents' divorce, her father's refusal to do more than send child-support checks, and especially her forced move from Massachusetts."

"In which case," Roarke put in, "if you find it necessary to speak with her, Christian, I would advise you to be as gentle as you can. She will be very much embarrassed by the fact that you know her crush for what it is, and by what she will see as your making light of it. It's typical of teenagers that what adults see as minor setbacks, they consider life-altering events that will haunt them for the remainder of their lives. In any case, if she crosses a line that you feel uncomfortable with—and especially if it seems to you to be threatening in an overt way to Leslie or the triplets—you'll want to be forewarned to handle the problem."

"I think I can manage something," Christian said. "I grew up dealing with the public, meeting our people now and then and learning to be warm without being too personal. In any case, I thank you for bringing this up. I admit to thinking some of her actions were a little odd, but I never connected them with the idea that she might have a crush."

Roarke smiled. "Often enough, the object of a crush never becomes aware of it. In any case, suppose we move on to other things…such as whether you've yet been able to update your family's website, Christian, and what news you may have from Lilla Jordsö."


	8. Chapter 8

§ § § -- July 7, 2004

"All right, then." Christian, Leslie and Ingrid lay on their stomachs on the floor, just like the triplets, who had quilts under them and were peering at one or another of the adults, usually whichever one was speaking at the moment. In this case it was Christian. "Here's where we're all going to have a language lesson of some sort. Leslie, my darling, yours will be in _jordiska_, and Ingrid…_du börjer lära dej engelska."_ He grinned when Leslie and Ingrid looked at each other with some trepidation. "The triplets, of course, will be picking up both languages, so they have twice the job either of you has."

"Huh," said Leslie teasingly. "You said we're 'all' having a lesson. What're you going to learn today?"

"Patience, and hopefully how not to laugh at your efforts," he said, grinning at her, and she snorted playfully. "Well, let's see. Suppose you try to speak to each other a little, in the other's language. Ingrid has a few English words, and I know you gathered at least a little _jordiska_, Leslie."

She gave him a look and said, "Undoubtedly because you caught me cramming in that dictionary you brought over from Lilla Jordsö when we got married. Well, then, what'll we start with? Something simple, I hope."

At that point Tobias hiccuped and spit up for the second time post-feeding, and the adults blinked at him and then laughed. Tobias stared at his parents, whose faces were close together at the moment, and grunted, making them laugh again. "Well," Christian said, "we could begin with that. Spit-up—or _småspy_ in _jordiska_. Let me lift him before he tires of holding his head up, so we can get that quilt clean."

About an hour later, with the triplets fast dropping off into slumber, Christian drew in a breath and said patiently, "Let's try this again. Ingrid, _på engelska till fru Enstad, 'det är så skjön att få se dej igen. Jag tillbringer gärna en kvell med dej."_

Ingrid turned quite red, but spoke in halting English anyhow. "It is so nice to see you again. I gladly spend an evening with you."

"_Nej, du säger_ 'I _will_ gladly spend an evening with you'," Christian corrected.

Leslie broke in then, smiling a little slyly and hoping the words she had just spent ten minutes stringing together would come out coherently. _"Är det inte den tiden att trillingar sovar?" _she asked Christian, grinning when both he and Ingrid stared at her in astonishment.

"What are you trying to do, outperform poor Ingrid here?" Christian teased, beginning to laugh. "A bit broken there, but essentially correct."

"Broken?" Leslie repeated. "What exactly did I say, then?"

"Directly translated, it would be 'Is it not the time that triplets sleep?' I suppose I'll have to teach you how articles are applied in _jordiska_. I'd ask, _'Är det inte dags for trillingarna att gå till sengs?'_ and you would say, _'Javissa'_—or 'certainly'." She nodded, and he let out a yawn. "I had no idea that teaching is so exhausting. Since it actually is time for the triplets to go to bed, I think we can stop for now."

"Suits me," Leslie agreed, echoing his yawn. "I'm afraid I'll never gain the kind of ease in _jordiska_ that I know the triplets will, but blast it, one way or another, I refuse to be the only totally monolingual member of this family." On Christian's chuckle, she arose and gathered up a sleepy Karina. "Come on, baby girl, Mommy's taking you to bed, and Daddy and Ingrid will bring your brother and sister."

"If I can stay awake that long myself," Christian mumbled, climbing to his feet and stretching long and hard before lifting Susanna. Drowsily he murmured to the baby in _jordiska_ on his way to the stairs; Ingrid brought up the rear with Tobias, already asleep, and the three put the triplets down for the next several hours. Leslie waited till Ingrid had gone off to her own room before turning to Christian as he snapped on the nightlight under the window in the triplets' room.

"Christian, my love," she said softly, "do you think Ingrid will learn enough English fast enough to be able to talk to Jonathan soon?"

Christian straightened up, glanced indulgently at her and closed the slats of the window blinds. "It may take some time," he said. "If they hope to develop any sort of relationship, she'll need enough command of the language to be able to answer his questions and ask some of her own. Casual conversation in an unfamiliar language certainly doesn't come so easily, and you should know. Ingrid's been doing well, but she's been actively learning for only a week or so."

"I know," Leslie said, watching him close the curtains. "I just wish we dared tell Jonathan about it. Camille told me he seems miserable because he can't even ask Ingrid the most basic questions to get to know her."

"There might be another problem," Christian observed, joining her in the doorway while she turned out the lamp on the chest of drawers near the bedroom door, leaving the babies' room in the soft, dim glow of the nightlight. "Ingrid is entrenched in the mindset that she's just a servant working for royalty and therefore has no freedom to do anything beyond the job she's expected to do. She'd be mortified if we even hinted to her that we knew of this attraction between her and Jonathan. I don't know how we can encourage the relationship, to tell you the truth."

Leslie shook her head, slipping her hand into his on their way to their own room. "I don't know if I really want to play matchmaker to such an obvious extent. I may have granted Myeko's fantasy once to meet men, and wound up putting eight or nine couples together as a result, but I wasn't going through acrobatic contortions trying to match people up. I just made introductions and the rest fell into place by itself."

"That would be ideal," Christian said, "but I honestly don't see how that would happen in this case. The best we can do is try to shoehorn a little English into Ingrid's brain and let her carry it from that point. At the moment, the only relationship I have any interest in is ours. You mentioned not so long ago that you're ready to make love again, and I seem to recall that this is the eighth anniversary of the day we first met. Are you willing to celebrate it with me tonight, while we have a little time to ourselves?"

Leslie smiled and wrapped her arms around him. "Absolutely, my love," she said. "Let's make this a night to remember."

"Ah…not at all difficult, I think," Christian murmured, smiling back, and kissed her. It started out gentle, perhaps a little exploratory, as if they felt they needed to relearn each other. In a sense, they were. By late April Leslie had been so ungainly with her pregnancy that she and Christian had reluctantly agreed to call a halt to their lovemaking till some point after the babies arrived. To their mutual relief and anticipation, this was that point, and they began slowly, refreshing their memories, becoming familiar with each other all over again. As he so often did, Christian gathered some of Leslie's hair in a loose fist and slowly stroked down, several times over, as he kissed her. Leslie sifted her fingers through his glossy dark hair, delighting in its silky texture and absorbing the welcome warmth of his body against hers.

Eventually he lifted his mouth from hers and murmured, "Let's take it slow…let's make this last. I don't know how long I'll be able to hold myself in check, I'm already so impatient—but I promise you it will be as wonderful for you as for me."

"It's always wonderful with you, no matter what happens," Leslie whispered.

Christian smiled slowly, then maneuvered her back to the bed and laid her down before settling down beside her and beginning to undress her. Her eyes gleamed softly in the faint light from the ceiling skylight, and she gathered the hem of his T-shirt in her hands and drew it up. Quietly, reverently, they undressed each other, then regarded each other in the dim illumination before Christian reached out and tentatively touched her breasts with the tip of an index finger. "They seem different," he ventured.

"They are, silly," Leslie said with a smile.

He grinned. "I know, my Rose, but not just for the obvious reasons." After a second's hesitation, he added hopefully, "Will you let me…try a little?"

She understood what he meant, and her smile widened a little. "Go ahead, my love," she said softly, anticipating the feel of his mouth on her breasts for the first time in weeks. She watched him lower his head and close his mouth over one breast, then suckle as he had so often done in their childless days. Then he swallowed with a startled gulp, and she couldn't hold back a grin. "What's the verdict?"

Christian lifted his head and chuckled self-consciously. "It's sweet! That really surprised me. It's a bit thin for my taste, but I think I can see why the babies would love it. I suppose I'd better be careful in case I happen to steal Susanna's and Karina's next meal."

"Oh, don't worry, they'll have enough," Leslie assured him. "Don't stop, my love…it feels so good."

"Different from when the babies do it?" Christian asked.

Leslie smiled at him and murmured, "Enough so I know it's you, and enough that it makes me want you—so please, stop talking and make love to me."

"That's easy to do," Christian said, smiling back, and kissed her before beginning to devote his attention to other parts of her. Leslie stroked and caressed him in turn, and in a few minutes they both forgot anything but each other in the rush of sensations that were so familiar yet so suddenly fresh after all this time. When he pulled her into a sitting position and then into his lap, settling her on him so that he slid inside her, they both groaned at the same moment, their need for each other increasing threefold. It was their favorite way to make love, for it provided the most sensation for them both.

Just when he was certain he could no longer control himself, she stiffened against him and cried, "Chris…ti…aaaaaaaaan!" just as she always had. Leslie threw her head back, the last syllable of his name a throaty groan as she convulsed against him. The sight drove Christian over the edge, and he grunted her name in the midst of emptying himself into her, in a series of short sharp jerks that drove him deeper into her with each thrust.

Leslie wilted over his shoulder, and Christian felt himself pulse into her one last time before his own peak subsided and he relaxed almost completely. They held each other hard, their breathing loud and heavy for a few minutes; slowly Leslie began to stroke his back, and Christian held her close, twining his fingers in her hair, wanting never to let her go.

"Tell me what you felt," he murmured to her when his breathing had slowed enough that he could be coherent again.

"I felt like you sent me to heaven," Leslie told him, her lips near his ear. "Just the way you always send me to heaven. We didn't lose anything by waiting." She drew her head back and then kissed him, and he groaned into her mouth, startled to find himself needing her again already. Leslie felt his reaction and broke away for a moment. "Oh, Christian…"

"My Rose, you've done this to me before, but not so soon," he breathed, closing his eyes. "Perhaps it was the necessity of waiting for you while you were right there with me, available but not…I don't know. These last several months have served to remind me how very fortunate I am to have you in my life. You've given me so much…my darling…" His voice broke, and he pulled her head forward to kiss her again.

They took full advantage of their opportunity to make love, giving each other all they had and both gaining greatly from it. They even had the chance to sleep for a couple of hours before a high-pitched little cry reached their ears and they came awake with rueful grins.

"Back to real life," Leslie murmured.

"The happiest real life I've ever had," Christian assured her, and they kissed one more time before crawling out of bed and going to see to their children.

‡ ‡ ‡

Guiltily Ingrid shut the door to her room and climbed back into bed, where she once again clicked on a flashlight she had borrowed from what Princess Leslie called the "junk drawer" in the Enstads' kitchen and spread open the English/_jordiska_ dictionary that Prince Christian had given her as a study aid. She was so determined to learn English as fast as she possibly could that—to her chagrin—she had been annoyed when the triplets' cries to be fed had interrupted her studying. What kind of rotten servant was she, anyway, to resent three helpless little babies? But it didn't stop her from going right back to her secret cramming as soon as Prince Christian had released her from further duty for the night.

It had been perhaps twenty minutes since she'd heard the prince and his wife return to their room when a strange clinking sound echoed faintly off the wall. Startled, she looked up, wide-eyed, fearful of being discovered. A moment later the same sound came again, and this time she realized something had hit the window. What in the world…? Terrified now that someone else would overhear, she leaped from the futon and ran on her toes to the window. Fortunately, since it was brand-new, it opened soundlessly.

The yard below was dark, but she could still make out a human figure standing below the window. Her first instinct was to call out in _jordiska_, but she restrained herself and instead put some of her newly-acquired, still-unsteady English to use. "Who is there?" she asked softly, hoping whoever it was would hear her.

"Ingrid? Is it you? It's Jonathan," came the reply.

"Jonathan!" Ingrid echoed, stunned. What on earth was he doing here? How did he know where Prince Christian lived? Maybe the prince would fire both of them if he knew… She gulped back her panic and wished her heart would slow down: in spite of her fear of their being discovered, she was delighted that Jonathan had gone this far just to see her.

"You speak some English now?" Jonathan called.

"Very little English," Ingrid said, annoyed with herself that she hadn't been able to absorb it even faster. How she wanted to be able to talk to this man. "So little I not speak good to you," she managed after some frantic thought, aware that she had cut him off as he'd tried to say something.

"Oh," Jonathan said, and for a moment there was a silence. Then she heard, "Can you come down here?"

"I…not know," Ingrid mumbled, wishing with all her heart that she could. But there was only one way to the first floor: the spiral stairway just near Prince Christian and Princess Leslie's room. The stairs didn't creak, but she didn't know whether either the prince or princess might be a light sleeper. And what about getting out the door without anyone hearing her? It was a bigger risk than she was willing to take. "No," she said at last, hoping he could hear the regret in her voice.

Jonathan mumbled something that Ingrid suspected was a curse, judging by its tone, and she smiled faintly, wondering if she'd ever gain enough fluency to learn the curses too. He was silent again, and she waited, wondering how on earth he'd figured out what room she was using. While she waited for him to speak again, she began picking out words in an attempt to formulate the question.

"Ingrid? You still there?" he called after some time.

"Yes," she told him.

"Good," came the reply, and she smiled again, fully this time. He'd almost thrown off her train of thought. She found the last words she needed, rehearsed the question once or twice, and then took a deep breath and plunged in. "Jonathan…how you know where I am?"

After a moment a laugh floated up to her. "I watched this house," he said. "I've been here for at least four hours. I was almost asleep, and then the light went on in the babies' room, and I saw you pass by the window once or twice with a baby, and then Boss Prince and Miss Leslie did the same thing. So I figured that was the triplets' room. When the light went out, I waited. And then I saw a light in your window, just a little one, flickering. So I just took a chance. I was prepared to hide if it wasn't you."

Ingrid missed half his explanation, since it not only consisted of a lot of words she didn't yet know, but was spoken fairly quickly. She tried to repeat the gist of what he'd told her. "You see light in baby room, you see me in…in window? And you see light go away, and you see light in my window?"

"Exactly," Jonathan said cheerfully. "Hey, your English is better than you think. Aw, Ingrid…" His tone became pleading. "I really wish you would come down here."

"Prince Christian not like," Ingrid said worriedly.

Jonathan sounded subdued. "Yeah, I guess not." His voice brightened. "Well, I could try to come up there."

"How you come here?" Ingrid exclaimed.

More silence, then a very loud sigh. "You're right, I couldn't. But don't leave. I don't want you to go."

"I not go," Ingrid promised, amazed at herself that she was actually conversing with this man, just as she'd dreamed of doing. She'd be a sleepless robot tomorrow, but it would be worth it just to have this chance. "Jonathan…say your other name."

"Other name?" he repeated blankly.

"Yes…" Ingrid hunted for the word she wanted but came up short, and settled for telling him, "All my name is Ingrid Roslund."

"Oh, my last name!" Jonathan said and laughed again. "Ichino. I'm Jonathan Ichino. I'm glad to know you, Ingrid Roslund. Now if you'd let me know you better…"

At that moment there was a tap on Ingrid's door and she froze, terror swamping her. "I go," she squeaked and ducked away from the window, scuttling on her toes to the futon and settling herself onto it as soundlessly as she could. She could hear Jonathan calling her name from below and willed him to be quiet.

"Ingrid?" a voice asked from outside her door. She swallowed hard; it was Prince Christian. She might as well get started packing to go home.

"Yes, Your Highness?" she responded in _jordiska_, trying to sound sleepy on the off chance that he still didn't realize someone was standing in his front yard.

"Something's going on in there," he said, sounding a little stern, and her heart sank. "May I come in?"

"Of course, Your Highness," Ingrid replied miserably. The door opened and Christian came into the room, striding right across to the window without even bothering to turn on a light. Ingrid squeezed her eyes closed and held her breath.

In English Christian called, "Who's down there? There's no point in hiding—I know you're there. So make your confession now and I might be lenient with you."

A defeated voice floated back up to them: "It's just me, Boss Prince, Jonathan…I only wanted to talk to Ingrid."

"You wanted to what?" Christian said, sounding stunned. "Talk to Ingrid? But she can barely speak English!"

"We were doing okay a few minutes ago," Jonathan replied miserably. "Man, Boss Prince, I'm really sorry about this. It's just…I didn't know any other way to contact her…oh, cripes, I guess I'm fired, huh?"

Ingrid had opened her eyes by now and thus saw Christian's silhouette rear back from the window. _"Herregud!"_ he exclaimed and she raised her head a little. Suddenly he began to laugh. "Tell you what, suppose you go to the front door and I'll let you in, so you can tell me exactly how the situation came down to this absurd little scene."

"I don't mind a bit," Jonathan said, "but could you bring Ingrid with you?"

Christian tipped back at the waist and laughed again, clearly trying to keep the volume of his mirth low for the sake of the sleeping triplets. "Well enough, I'll do that," he chortled. "I'd hate to see you go to all this effort for nothing. We'll meet you there."

Five minutes later Christian had brought Ingrid down, along with Leslie, who had been awakened when he'd left the bed to investigate the faint voices he'd been hearing, and let Jonathan in. Now Leslie gave them all orange juice, and Christian waited for her to sit down before addressing Jonathan. "All right, tell me precisely what you meant to do here."

"Just to talk to Ingrid, that's it," Jonathan insisted and looked at Leslie as though in appeal. "It's really true, Miss Leslie."

Leslie grinned. "I don't doubt you, Jonathan, but it strikes us both that this is a pretty drastic way to try to further your relationship with Ingrid. If you'd just approached us and asked, we'd have had no problem at all. We were kind of wondering why you didn't, once we found out."

Jonathan stared at her, glanced at Christian, who grinned, and then stared at Leslie some more. Finally he croaked, "You mean you knew? But how?" Then he sat up straight and exclaimed, "Julianne! It had to be Julianne!"

"Well, it was, more or less," Leslie said, chuckling softly. "She told Camille, and Camille told me. But really, Jonathan, they were both sympathetic—at least, Camille said Julianne was. Camille herself thinks it's about time you met some nice girl."

"Geeeeeeeeez," Jonathan groaned and dropped his forehead into the palms of both hands. Ingrid watched him with a curious little smile. "Well, to go back to the beginning, I first saw Ingrid a few weeks ago. She was getting something or other at the All-Natural shop, and I was in there on my lunch hour looking for some soda. I kinda bumped into her by accident. We exchanged names, but that was all we could say to each other. The same night I ate supper over at my sister Andrea's house, and my niece Janine mentioned she'd started working for you guys, doing your food shopping twice a week. That's when I found out Ingrid was helping you take care of the triplets. I figured it was a lost cause after that. I mean, I have no real reason to come over here, I'm just your employee."

"Why didn't you say something when I brought the triplets in to work that one day?" asked Christian in perplexity.

Jonathan gawked at him in astonishment. "Man, you must be joking, Boss Prince…with everybody else right there? Julianne would've had a field day with it, and I'd have heard a lot of ribbing from Mateo and Beth and Anton too. I wasn't gonna risk that."

"But obviously Julianne noticed anyway," Leslie reminded him, "or she wouldn't have known to tell Camille about it. At any rate…" She smiled, glancing a little sheepishly at an amused Christian. "Once we got the word from Camille, Christian decided Ingrid might as well start learning English. Not that we hadn't intended her to learn at some point, since she's going to be with us at least through the triplets' first birthday and probably longer. But this was a good excuse to actually get started."

Ingrid suddenly said, "I learn little too. I try learn when you not know, Your…Your…_Ers Höghet." _ She blushed and glanced fleetingly at Jonathan, who smiled.

Christian opened his mouth, hesitated, then said, "Forgive me, my Rose, and Jonathan as well. A moment." In _jordiska_ he asked Ingrid, "Do you mean to say you've been studying English in secret?"

Relieved, Ingrid nodded and said, "Exactly so, Your Highness. I borrowed a flashlight and studied the dictionary you gave me whenever I wasn't working. Mostly I study at night. I want so badly to speak to Jonathan and get to know him well, and I don't want to waste a lot of time. I don't know how long I'll be here."

"Ah, don't worry about that. We'll need your help with those little imps well into their second year, so you should prepare to spend a goodly bit of time on this island. It'll give you plenty of time to gain some fluency in English, too. I certainly won't forbid you and Jonathan to see each other, but you'll both need patience while you're learning to speak good enough English to really talk to him."

Ingrid sighed wistfully and let her gaze stray to Jonathan, who had been watching her the whole time. "It's not easy, Your Highness," she admitted.

Christian laughed. "I understand perfectly, Ingrid, believe me." He switched back to English. "Well, Ingrid says she's been studying English in secret, trying to learn faster. I don't know how much success she'll have, but I can tell you this, Jonathan—I won't stop you from seeing her. It's only that there's no rushing her absorption of English, and you'll both need to be patient. You'll have to take it slowly out of sheer lack of means of communication. In view of that, are you still willing to try?"

"Absolutely, Boss Prince," Jonathan said immediately.

Leslie sat up and leaned forward. "You know…maybe I could help, if I have a chance to talk to Father…"

"Now, wait a minute, my Rose," Christian began.

"What could Mr. Roarke do?" Jonathan asked with interest.

Leslie saw Christian roll his eyes and patted her husband's arm. "Maybe Father would be willing to give Ingrid temporary fluency, enough so you two could have a real talk for a while and at least learn enough of the basics about each other to get your relationship rolling, and see if you feel compatible enough to keep going."

"_Herregud,"_ Christian muttered, and Ingrid giggled.

"Do you think he'd agree to it?" Jonathan asked hopefully.

Leslie shrugged and said, "I can find out tomorrow. Right now…" She smiled. "I have a feeling you two wouldn't mind a little time alone. Christian and I can give you about fifteen minutes while we go up and check on the babies. Come on, my love, let's give these two a little bit of privacy."

Christian gave her an incredulous look as she pushed back her chair and stood up. "What in the world is possessing you tonight, Leslie?"

"Oh, come on, spoilsport," Leslie teased, grabbing his hand and pulling at him. "I'd hate to see Jonathan come all the way over here and go to all that trouble, and not have his chance to spend a little time with Ingrid. Come on." Christian snorted, but he got up and let Leslie tug him out of the room. Ingrid giggled again behind her hand, and Jonathan watched them go, chuckling soundlessly and shaking his head. They looked at each other then, their amusement dissolving into a sort of shy fascination, and for the first time reached out to clasp hands. Neither spoke, but no words were necessary right now.

Christian and Leslie made a quick check on the soundly-sleeping triplets and then paused near the stairs. After a few minutes Christian muttered, "Do you intend to stand here and count off the next ten minutes, second by second?"

Leslie gave him a dirty look. "Where's your sense of romance, Enstad?"

He raised an eyebrow and retorted, "Slumbering peacefully in that bed, in exactly the place I wish I were right now. This really is a hell of a time for you to decide the lovebirds should have their chance to coo over each other. It's almost one in the morning!"

"When the clock says one, I'll chase Jonathan out and send Ingrid to bed, and then we'll go ourselves," Leslie promised. She turned to him and slipped her arms around him. "Come on, my darling, don't tell me that if it were you and me, you wouldn't have done the same thing."

Christian sighed deeply. "Mr. Roarke would have told me to rein in my impatience and wait till a civilized hour."

"Oh no, that's not the way I remember it," Leslie reminded him slyly. "What about when you first proposed to me, and I turned you down because I thought I'd jinx you? You were at the main house at somewhere around two a.m., trying to shoot down every roadblock I threw in your way. I'm sure the thought of a civilized hour never once crossed your mind in all that time. Am I right?"

"That was different," Christian protested.

"Why?" Leslie asked.

"Because…" he began, then stopped, frowning. "Well," he finally said, "because I was desperate to convince you."

Leslie grinned. "I'm sure Jonathan was no less desperate just to talk to Ingrid."

Christian groaned and let his head fall back for a moment in frustration. "But Mr. Roarke was never even awake in our case—and furthermore, we weren't bothering someone who had to face the demands of three one-month-olds every three hours or so, all night long. If I seem like a spoilsport to you, keep in mind that I'm sleep-deprived. If you tell me you're not, I won't believe a syllable."

"I am," Leslie said, glancing down the stairs, "but I think this is a special case. Just this once, my love, okay? You don't even have to go down with me—I'll lay down the law for Jonathan and have Ingrid go back to bed. Without studying, I might add."

Christian grinned then. "Oh? And how are you going to tell her that?"

Leslie rolled her eyes, and he laughed softly and kissed her. "I'll wait up here, and when you get back with Ingrid, I'll tell her myself," he suggested. "It's one o'clock, my Rose, go down and throw him out so we can all get some sleep." She laughed finally, shaking her head in resignation, and headed down the stairs. Maybe, Leslie thought as she went, even if Roarke advised against any sort of artificial language booster, she and Christian had done enough to get Jonathan and Ingrid a little closer. _Love really defies logic sometimes, but that's what makes it so wonderful,_ she thought. The summer promised to be interesting, and she looked forward to it.

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_Next: an extremely unexpected visitor arrives on the island, even while Christian and Leslie go on dealing with Janine Polidari's crush; and Maureen has her baby as well…_


End file.
